In Pursuit Of Magic
by Zero Rewind
Summary: Somehow, I find myself reborn in the world of Harry Potter as a no-name orphan. You know what that means: pursuing magic's secrets and uncovering the most tantalizing of mysteries this world has to offer! Oh, Voldemort? Why should I care? OC SI
1. Prologue

**A plot bunny did its thing again.**

**Let's begin!**

**oooo  
In Pursuit Of Magic  
Prologue  
oooo**

**June 10, 1991**

I'm just going to throw this out there.

Going through my formative years _again_ sucked.

Big time.

I've been told my name is Adam Clarke, a good, strong British name. I knew that was not my true name, but I highly doubted anyone would believe me if I'd shared the truth with them.

Having experienced reincarnation and rebirth, keeping all the memories of my previous life- it was highly frightening.

I shuddered to think how the orphanage matron would react; she'd either harp on about the Good Lord or declare me Satan reborn. She was a flighty bitch at the best of times.

Ah, yes; you see, I lived in an orphanage.

Apparently, my biological parents had been gunned down, and the hospital staff had to cut me out of her corpse to save my life. My father had enough life left in him to give me a name before he'd shuffled off the mortal coil.

A horrible tragedy, the matron had told me with as much sympathy as a cat which is about to torture a mouse to death.

I was born too early, and they were all sure I would die. Being able to actually remember my first few days of existence, I knew I'd come pretty close.

Choking pains, weakness of breath, and an all encompassing cold with a few, scant moments of reprieve.

And yet, I lived on- to everyone's shock and surprise.

A miracle child, I was called. What the miracle was, exactly, I'd never cared to find out.

So, I was shipped off to some middle of nowhere orphanage and forgotten by all who were involved. Just a crime statistic, a halfway interesting survival story shoved into the back of people's minds so they'd live more comfortably.

Not all was doom and gloom, of course.

I was optimistic.

I had a clean slate, some could say.

A chance to live life without the mental constraints of a child's body. I would be able to quickly rise through the ranks of society and get hailed as a great mind.

It was strange, though. I was born in the year 1980 in this life. In my previous life, I'd been born this year; 1991.

At first, I'd thought that reincarnation was a non-linear experience, and so assumed there would be another version of me in the world.

That was until the accidents began occurring. I'd waved them off, at first. A trick of the light. Strange karmic justice.

Kids who bullied me got their pants wet in a way that made them look like they'd soiled their clothes. A door closing abruptly out of nowhere. Things I didn't like sometimes disappeared or were destroyed in some contrived way.

The more they occurred, the more I realized that something else was at play. I had my suspicions, but it all seemed circumstantial.

My birth in the year 1980, being British, the strange events happening whenever I was particularly emotional- they fit strangely well with a certain plotline from a book series I'd been obsessed with for almost two decades of my previous life.

Of course, the confirmation was now right in front of me. The orphanage matron had interrupted my studies, none-too-gently hauling off to a meeting room.

A tsunami of insults coursed through my mind, but the words died in my mouth when she introduced me to the person occupying it.

Severus Snape; a tall, thin, sallow faced man with black eyes and greasy hair, quietly handing me an envelope as the matron left the room.

On it, I read:

**Mr A Clarke**

**Fifth Top Bunk To The Right**

**The Orphanage of Pity**

**Warminster**

The other side was closed off with a purple wax seal bearing a familiar coat of arms; a lion, an eagle, a badger and a snake surrounding the letter H.

If this wasn't confirmation, then I didn't know what was.

"Open it." The man prompted, his voice a soft, contained thing.

I obeyed, reading its contents while my mind began to whirr with the possibilities. The letter was the typical Hogwarts acceptance letter.

I decided to play dumb.

"Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." I deadpanned, turning the letter and reading what's on the back- the expected lists of supplies I would need. Robes, books, supplies and a wand. "You expect me to believe this... school of _magic_ exists, Mr. Snape?"

On its own, the piece of paper flew out of my grasp, settling into the man's hand. I stared at it until he cleared his throat.

"Do you, perhaps, require another demonstration, Mr. Clarke?" Snape replied, sounding neither amused, nor annoyed as he handed my letter back.

I shook my head slowly, reading through the letter again, very slowly.

"I can't pay for tuition, or my supplies." I finally said, keeping my eye on the list of school supplies.

"Your tuition is free, and the Ministry of Magic has set aside a small fund for those without the means." Snape smoothly replied.

It made sense- how else would Riddle have afforded going to Hogwarts?

"The Ministry of Magic?" I asked, looking in his direction but not meeting his eyes directly. This man was an accomplished Occlumens and Legilimens. Who knew what secrets he could pluck out of my head with a simple look?

"Our government." He said with a tone of finality as he got up from his chair gesturing for me to follow as he moved towards the exit. "Come along now, Mr. Clarke. You must get dressed and ready."

"We're going _now?_" I balked at the abruptness of the entire experience.

Snape did not dignify me with an answer.

**Oooo**

Getting fitted for robes was a bore. Being watched by the intense eyes of Snape as Madame Malkins worked on getting my measurements was even worse.

Snape was an expert at evading people.

I'd always known this was the case, of course- a life as an introvert in Slytherin would do that to you- but his behavior pretty much cemented that in my eyes.

That wasn't to say that he was afraid of confrontation. His entire demeanor was standoffish with everyone but myself, and that was probably only because he was forced to interact with me.

"Professor?" I broke the tense silence of the clothing store.

"Yes, Mr. Clarke?"

"What subject do you teach at Hogwarts?" I asked.

He gave me an inscrutable look. "Potions, Mr. Clarke."

I averted his direct gaze, focusing on the bridge of his nose instead. "I see. I read in the letter that I'd need vials and a cauldron. Is it anything like chemistry?"

I could tell he was stifling an eye-roll. Likely, he heard this from every Muggleborn student he interacted with.

"Only in the sense that it is an exacting art, Mr. Clarke." I almost missed it, but there was a shift in the man's expression. "It is a subtle science, more complex than the haphazard methods of the muggles, and far from the expected foolish wand-waving in the other subjects."

I hummed. "What kind of potions will I be learning to.. brew, the word is? I hope it's not love potion, sir."

"Nothing so foolish, Mr. Clarke." He eyed me strangely. "I tend to... discourage my students from certain practices."

I gulped despite myself. This was a man to be wary of.

"All done." Madame Malkin declared. I sighed in relief as he focused his attention back to the owner, discussing the payment.

I ignored the look of pity she'd given me after realizing I was an orphan. I had no memories of my biological parents, and I'd managed to deal with the negative feelings associated with the loss of my previous life.

Pitying eyes meant nothing to me.

I followed the Potions Professor as he took me to the wandmaker's store. "I shall leave you here, for now, Mr. Clarke."

"You're not going in with me?" I asked in surprise. I thought Hagrid had left Harry alone due to his incompetence as a caretaker.

"Acquiring your first wand is a particularly... Intimate process." Was the man's response. "Besides, this will allow me to save time by getting all of your required books."

I snorted. "Practical."

There was a flash of amusement in his expression, before it settled back into indifference. "You are perceptive. Perhaps you may do well in my class, after all, Mr. Clarke."

He handed me the required money, turned and walked away, fully expecting me to obey his commands and enter the wand shop. To be fair, I did, but not before staring at the dingy, grimy entrance.

Considering the existence of cleaning spells, wizards were a really unhygienic sort. Still, the sight of a wand on a cushion as well as the sign which said "Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC" took my trepidation away.

The shop was as tiny as I imagined it being. Hundreds of narrow boxes containing wands lined up every wall of the place.

I moved further into the store, staring at the assortment of wands with a feeling of anticipation building within me.

"A new arrival." A voice came from my right. Despite having expected it, I jumped. "Here for your first wand, I presume?"

"Do you enjoy startling people?" I huffed and shot the man a glare.

The amused look in his silvery eyes was all I needed. "One must find enjoyment where one can."

Well, he certainly wasn't wrong.

"Adam Clarke." I introduced myself, extending a hand, which the old man accepted. "I assume you're the owner, Mr. Ollivander? And, yes, I'm here for a wand."

"Indeed I am, Mr. Clarke." He seemed to have found my manner refreshing.

And so the measuring tapes began to circle around me, taking every measurement possible.

"My wands possess one of three fundamental cores, Mr. Clarke." He explained to pass the time. "Unicorn hair, dragon heartstring and phoenix feathers."

"Why those three?" I asked, before thinking about it. "I can only imagine it's related to the power of the animals they're taken from- much like how an elephant's hide is much stronger than that of, say, a rat?"

Ollivander stopped for a moment, regarding me with interest.

"You are correct, Mr. Clarke." Ollivander confirmed, pleased at the line of questioning. "You will learn much of these creatures at Hogwarts, of course."

I frowned, hoping he would've shared more information on the matter. I'd always wondered about the intricacies of wandlore.

Fleur's core was her grandmother's hair, and Gregorovitch seemed to do his own thing when concerning wands.

"The quest for knowledge is its own reward, young Mr. Clarke." Ollivander said. He must have been a Ravenclaw, I thought as the measuring ended and I was handed a wand.

"Holly and unicorn tail hair. Twelve inches." He'd said.

No sooner than it was in my hand, he'd snatched it away and fetched another. "Oak and a dragon's heartstring- but, I think it's no good for you, lad." He snatched that one away, too.

"How are you able to tell?" I asked as he handed me another.

I gave this one a wave before he managed to take it, sending a pathetic sputter of sparks.

"This one was close." Ollivander said, not answering my question and taking the wand out of my hand. He scratched at his chin thoughtfully before he moved to a nearby shelf, taking a wand out of one of his many boxes and holding it before me.

"I believe this one will be a suitable match for you." Ollivander seemed confident as he placed the black wand in my hand. "Ebony, and a dragon's heartstring, nine inches long."

I felt a warmth rushing through my hand. I smiled at the feeling, I waved the wand, watching a stream of blue and purple sparks blow out of it.

"I see that I was right." He smiled gently at my speechless state. "Ebony, with a dragon's heartstring. It will serve you well, Mr. Clarke."

"Thank you." I stared at the wand in awe.

This experience alone made the unpleasantness of the past 11 years worth it.

With a grateful smile, I paid the old man, and exited to find Professor Snape waiting.

"You were right." Was all I said to the man.

He merely nodded and turned, gesturing for me to follow. There was nothing that needed to be said.

I followed, feeling like I was being introduced to this wondrous world for the first time, all over again.

**oooo**

**Hope you liked it.**

**This is not a fix-it fic. Take that as you will.**

**ooooooo**

**Link to my book: mybook,to/TheDregOfBellmead (Replace comma with period)**

**OR look up "The Dreg of Bellmead" on Amazon/Kindle.**

**Link to my discord: discord,gg/Pq5J8dX (Replace comma with period)**

**Come and hang out, we like to meme and talk about shows/movies/fanfics/games! Always nice to make new friends.**


	2. Chapter 1

As always, thank you for supporting my book!

**Now, let's continue with the story!**

**oooo  
Chapter 1  
oooo**

**September 1, 1991**

I watched the old, beat up 1978 Vauxhall sputter its way down the road as I turned away from my old life.

_They couldn't get rid of me fast enough._ I stifled a sneer. _Wouldn't even accompany me to the station I'm supposed to enter._

And yet, as I stared at the large railway station known as King's Cross, I couldn't help the smile and excitement that coursed through me. Not even the chore of hauling my school trunk to grab a trolley dampened my spirits.

I followed the signs, taking my time- It was all too easy to convince the matron to drop me off early. I meandered through the building's sections, trying to figure out how the wizards even managed to fit an entire platform in here.

Was size-expansion magic that strong, or was the gateway some kind of portal? Speaking of the gateway…

I stared at the nondescript wall between platforms nine and ten. This was where it all would start. My thirst for magic, my quest to solve the mysteries of the world.

With no hesitation, I walked towards it, watching as the trolley seemed to simply blend into the wall, with me following suit.

I felt a tingling on my skin as I came out the other side. _That_ had been strange. But, what really got my attention was the train before me. It really was like the first book's cover— a red, old-style, steam powered locomotive.

Well, at least, it used to be steam powered, I thought as I cleared the entrance and loitered for a bit to the side, watching the other early riser families say goodbye to their children.

I'd lost my original parents when I'd died- and in this life, I'd lost them right off the bat. This was a somewhat stifling thought, so I discarded it in favor of marveling at the train, again.

This thing was supposed to run fully on magic— but how did it really work? A steam powered train would be using pistons, and the like. With magic, they could likely skip the entire process of heating coals, boiling water and using pistons to drive the wheels— instead, simply making the wheels turn on their own.

I shook my head. Magic avoided all the tedium that normal folks needed to grit their teeth through.

"What are you doing?" A voice startled me. I quickly turned to see a little girl, with bushy brown hair and brown eyes. Was this who I thought it was?

I stared at her for a few seconds longer, before turning back to the train. "How do you think it works?"

"...It's an old steam engine, isn't it?" The girl did not reply immediately, standing beside me to stare at the train for a few seconds before turning to me. "You know, it's rude to ignore people."

I snorted. "So I've been told."

I turned to her and extended a hand before she could say anything further. "Adam Clarke. A pleasure."

She took it, her grip weak and tentative. "Hermione Granger. Likewise."

I turned back to the train, letting go of her hand. "So? What do you think? There's no way it's still a steam engine. These are _wizards and witches._ They've got flying brooms, for God's sake!"

"You're new, too?" She asked, a little hopeful.

I nodded, but did not offer any more words- not that she seemed to notice my reticence.

"That's great." She started excitedly. "I thought I would be the only one who didn't have magical parents. My parents were oh-so confused when Professor McGonagall came to our doorstep with the letter. I was afraid they'd react badly to the news."

"It _is_ a lot to take in." I agreed.

"How did yours react?" She asked curiously.

I stifled a sigh. Granger, in her early days, put her foot in her mouth almost as bad as Weasley did.

"I'm an orphan." Was my reply.

She looked mortified at her blunder. "Oh… I'm so sorry!"

"For what?" I asked. "It's not like you knew."

"I…" She looked pained.

"Don't worry about it… Hermione, was it?" I waved it off.

She nodded hesitantly. "I should go find a place on the train…"

I watched her awkwardly make her way to the train, not feeling the urge to chase.

_Should I go and tell her that everything's fine?_ I wondered with a frown.

I did feel bad for her, of course, but I realized I just didn't care all that much.

Why bother with something as fickle as friendship? I'd lost all my friends when I'd died, and, well… I was an adult in a child's body.

Children were tiresome little things, always jumping from one spot to the other, with attention spans worse than goldfish.

I nodded, my resolve to not bother reaffirmed. There were more interesting things in the world, I thought as I gave the Hogwarts express one final look, before pushing my cart to it as well.

Loading my school trunk in the luggage section was tiring, but I was lucky enough to find an empty compartment to settle into. Settling into the comfortable seat, I began to leaf through the copy of _Magical Drafts and Potions_ in my hands.

I'd already skimmed the first few chapters, but it wouldn't hurt to properly read through it on the ride. I'd already devoured the Standard Book of Spells twice over. Dry read, it may have been, but these were instruction manuals on _magic_!

Forcing myself to read the long-winded and preachy scripts was worth the time. I smiled as I checked over the recipe for the Boil Cure potion, knowing it would be the first thing Snape would make us do.

That's right. I was using my knowledge of canon to affect my grades at school. I was a cheater, and proud of it!

Plus, this would have immediate benefits- who _really_ wanted to deal with pimples? Especially with puberty waiting around the corner.

I shuddered. Going through that once was annoying enough- and I hadn't even known what I was doing at the time. Now, having to go through it _again_, with full cognizance really set my teeth on edge.

I _really_ hoped my young body didn't react to the girls at school. That would engender all sorts of 'nope' within my soul.

Back to Potions. The Boil Cure potion wasn't the only useful thing in this book. There was another potion— Wideye Potion; I was convinced that potions were a gift from the gods. God? Merlin? Who knew.

The important part was that Wideye Potion keeps you awake longer. The longer I was awake, the more magic I could read up on, and study!

Of course, being a responsible adult, I would likely limit it so as not to interfere with my health. Yes, I would have to eat well, sleep well, maybe even exercise once in a while.

Once a week? With my young body, the workout wouldn't need to be strenuous: a bit of running, calisthenics, pushups and the like.

There was a certain room on the Seventh Floor I planned to straight up abuse. My grin began to turn feral at the thought of all that I was about to do.

It was at that moment that the compartment door slid open, revealing a pair of familiar redheaded twins, giving me a strange look.

The insane grin was still on my face, wasn't it?

"It is." Both boys said simultaneously.

I said that out loud, didn't I?

"You did." They continued, now amused. "You're the strangest firstie we've met."

I snorted before looking down at my book. "It's good to be number one at something. Come in."

"Confident, this one is." The two entered the compartment, placing their trunks in the luggage section much easier than I did.

I felt a pang of jealousy at the two.

I couldn't wait to regain my adult strength. Being puny again was very unnerving.

"Ah, the Boil Cure." One of the boys spied at what I was reading. "You'll be learning it soon."

"Very useful, that." The other continued.

I looked up at the two. There wasn't a hint of any pimples on their faces. "I can see the effects."

"Confident, _and _perceptive." The first one said, before the two boys extended their hands. "I'm Fred Weasley, and this is George."

"Adam Clarke." I took both hands and shook them, before returning to my book.

"So, where are you from, Clarke?" The one who'd introduced himself as Fred asked as the train began to move.

This was going to be a long ride, wasn't it?

**Oooo**

It was proving to be a long ride, but quite the entertaining one. Feigning an interest in pranks had lit a fire in the two boys, which increased when their friend, Lee Jordan had joined us.

He'd been leery at the thought of talking to an ickle firstie, but soon relaxed.

"So, we put a spider in his bed." George was recounting a tale as they ate the sandwiches their mom had thoughtfully given them for the trip.

I stared at it for a few moments, remembering better days, before focusing back on their story.

"He _shrieked_!" Fred recounted and began to laugh, his brother and friend joining him.

I chuckled alongside them. It reminded me of the pranks I'd committed on siblings in my previous life.

"So, what house do you think you'll be in, Clarke?" Jordan asked curiously. I considered his words.

"I have no idea." I replied honestly. "It's a hat that reads your mind and decides for you, no?"

"Yeah. How'd you know?" Fred asked curiously.

"We told ickle Ron that he'd have to wrestle a troll." George chortled.

I snorted. These two were even more fun to be around in person than in the books. Call it hero worship, if you want to.

"The Professor who took me to Diagon Alley told me." I fibbed with a shrug. The man hadn't said anything of the sort- he barely answered any legitimate questions I had.

Antisocial to the core, that man was. Brilliant at his craft, to be sure, but everyone had some kind of quirk or flaw. Besides, I wasn't exactly a social butterfly, myself.

I shuddered at the thought of becoming as isolated as Snape.

"A shudder. Brother mine, the Professor who took him can only be one man." Fred said.

"Snape." The twins answered together, while Lee mirrored my shudder.

"He was a little quiet during the trip." I said slowly. "Is he that bad?"

"If you're sorted into Gryffindor, he will be." Lee offered the knowledge I already knew. "He _hates_ us."

_He hates James Potter and his posse of bullies; by extension, he hates the House that encouraged their attitude._ I thought, feeling a shred of pity for the man, though it didn't last long. _Slytherin was pretty bad, too._

_They're just characters in a book_. My mind said, but being in this compartment with three of these so-called characters, interacting with them on the human level…

"Well, whether he hates me or not doesn't matter to me." I finally decided. "Whatever House I get Sorted in, I'll accept."

What I didn't say was that, no matter which House I was thrown in, I was going to shun as much human contact as I could and focus on magic, instead.

It hadn't even been an hour, and these three people had already distracted me from my goal.

I returned my attention to the closed Potions book in my lap, and reopened it. The three quickly understood the implied dismissal and shared a chuckle, muttering something about me being a sure thing for Ravenclaw.

They were probably right, I thought as I read through the steps for the third time. Seeking out the mysteries of magic for knowledge's sake was the most Ravenclaw thing in the multiverse.

I imagined what I could eventually be capable of. The level of knowledge and skill I could attain, I would be able to understand it all.

"Clarke, you're doing it again." Jordan pointed out.

The wide smile fell immediately. "Oh. I got excited."

They began muttering about Slytherin House.

I stifled an eye-roll. As if I would ever join the House that hates Mudbloods. That was a disaster waiting to happen. No, I would need to be away from that House if I wanted to reach my goals.

_Wait._ I thought. _Wouldn't that be sufficient cunning to have me thrown in Slytherin House on principle?_

That was not a comforting thought.

**oooo**

The remainder of the train ride had been pleasant enough. Granger had shown up, asking about Neville's frog, only to freeze at the sight of me and leave quickly.

There had been some lighthearted digs from the boys, but I took the banter like a champ, making some highly immature comments of my own, much to their delight.

I may not have been the socializing type, but I would be stupid to not give these two fellows a good impression.

Knowing what they were capable of… Well, I didn't want to tempt fate.

I followed the announcer's instructions, leaving my luggage in the train and exited it, joining the throng of students as I tried to orient myself- it was a little tough, because half of the sun had already disappeared into the horizon, and pretty much everyone was taller than I was.

I sighed. At least the clothes were comfortable.

_Madame Malkins does good work._ I thought as I found a spot to stand in and waited. _Though, why would anyone learn __**magic**__ so they can make __**clothes **__for a living?_

Wizards really were weird. They had access to a powerful force to rewrite reality as they saw fit, and they used it to hem robes and make love potions.

It was equal parts amusing and infuriating.

"Firs' years! Firs' years over here! All right there, Harry?" A great big booming voice called out. I turned to the source, almost gaping at the giant of a man.

He was even taller than I'd expected- Reading about him in a book was something, but seeing him in person was another thing entirely. He was _gigantic_, with a stout build, likely hiding the incredibly dense muscles beneath.

A great big bushy beard covered most of his face, only made somewhat pleasant to look at thanks to his jovial demeanor.

"Any more firs' years?" He looked around, spotting me. "Come along, now!"

I followed the group, already having picked out the big players in the mass of kids. There was Malfoy, with his two cronies. I saw Potter and Weasley, Granger and Neville.

I also recognized the Patil twins, Finnigan, Thomas, Bones and a few more, but the rest were mostly unrecognizable. Since they were never described in the books, they could've been anyone.

Part of me wondered, for a moment, if there was someone else like me, here. Were there more reincarnated people, or was I the only one?

If it was only me, then why?

Any further thoughts ended at the sight of mighty Hogwarts Castle. Ancient and titanic, it stood the test of time and still looked like it could hold off an army of monsters.

It was an experience I had only dreamt of, before. Yet, here I was. The pale moonlight filtered past the clouds, making the Great Lake's surface beautifully shimmer.

I had to give this one to the wizards- if nothing else, they were excellent at dramatic reveals.

At Hagrid's instruction, I hopped on one of the boats, joined by Malfoy and two other children I didn't know.

I kept my mouth shut, not wanting to draw this one's attention just yet. Luckily, he was too busy gawking at Hogwarts Castle.

I frowned at that. Yet another person who was a product of his environment- his father, Lucius, likely groomed him from birth to be this way.

With that sobering thought, we finally entered through a cavern, which led to the castle doors. I forced the thought out of my head in favor of staring at my surroundings.

The castle was even better, up close. Thick, stone walls, a large, oaken door, capable of withstanding extreme force- especially if it was magically enhanced, which it likely was.

I took my first step on the castle floor and felt a tingle sweep through my entire body.

_That had felt almost exactly like when I was entering Platform Nine and Three Quarters!_ I narrowed my eyes in thought, absently gathering around the large door with the others as Hagrid made to knock. _What is this?_

But, there was no time to ponder this question, as the oaken door opened at the third knock, revealing the stern visage of who could only be Minerva McGonagall, wearing a set of green robes.

I put a pin in the now named 'Topic of the Tingle', promising myself I'd look into it as soon as I could- which probably meant tomorrow. That's, if I was able to find the library, of course.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall." Hagrid announced.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here." Was her reply as she opened the large door wide, revealing the gigantic entrance hall.

This place was also chock full of expansion charms, wasn't it? I would have _fun_ figuring out its secrets. It'll probably keep me busy for months, if not years.

I marvelled at our surroundings as McGonagall led us to a large set of doors, behind which we could hear the cacophony of what could only be a mass of children in a single room.

The Great Hall, where we would be sorted.

I gave a half-hearted listen to what McGonagall was saying about the houses, noting that her stern eyes seemed to narrow onto me. I gave a mental shrug, unconcerned with the matter. The castle grounds themselves were far more interesting than the people in them.

There were actual suits of armor, complete with swords and shields! They shined as if they'd never been used before. As far as I knew from the books, there was no real upkeep done on these, so this was basically a maintenance spell of some sort that kept them in tip-top condition for centuries.

I salivated at the thought of such knowledge.

Eventually, she instructed us to form a line, and the doors to the Great Hall opened. We followed the Professor inside, marveling at the thousands of floating candles, sitting underneath the open, starry sky.

_This_ was incredible magic. I barely paid any attention to anything, until the clack of a stool against the stone floor took it back- it was the Sorting Hat, and it began to sing its song, one I'd read hundreds of times before.

I hadn't expected it to sing so _well_, though. It had more singing talent than just about anyone I'd known about, both in this life and my previous.

I wondered if Dumbledore loaned it out to make a quick buck- or, I supposed I should start saying Galleon, from this point on.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted." McGonagall said, holding a roll of parchment. I wondered if that's where the phrase "roll call" came from. "Abbott, Hannah!"

I watched as she went through the list, sorting the kids into Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Slytherin- and then it was getting close to my turn.

"Clarke, Adam!"

I took a deep breath to settle my nerves and sat on the stool, wondering- as my vision went dark- how well the Sorting Hat could read my mind, and if it had access to my knowledge.

In fact, what was even the point of sorting kids into like-minded groups? It would only create tribalism and groupthink, ultimately harming its supposed purpose of unity more than encouraging it- especially considering how people's personalities went through great changes through their formative years, puberty, and even adulthood.

_The point, my young fellow._ The Sorting Hat replied, startling me. _Is that I provide a safe haven to give the students a chance to thrive, and not be subjected to strife every step of the way._

_And yet, you have people who suffer, regardless._ I thought back.

_The world is not perfect._ The Hat retorted, its tone heavy with regret. _I can only do so much in the few seconds of time I'm allowed with the children. I do know which house you'll be suited for, however. "_RAVENCLAW!"

I took the hat off, thoughtfully handing it to the Professor as the Ravenclaw table cheered, beckoning me over. Idly, as I made my way to the table, I noticed that my robes had changed, showcasing my affiliation with Ravenclaw House.

I took one of the empty seats, realizing this would probably be my seat for the entire year at mealtimes.

"Adam, was it?" One of the boys next to me said. "I'm Terry, Terry Boot."

"Adam Clarke." I shook his hand, and engaged the fellow first year in small talk as we watched the rest of the first years get sorted. Soon enough, a few more students were sorted in Ravenclaw. Michael Corner, Anthony Goldstein.

I quickly lost interest.

I tuned out the rest of the sorting, not really paying attention to anything but the mesmerizing dark sky above, completely missing Potter's sorting and whoever else followed.

I was officially at Hogwarts, and I was going to learn everything.

My excitement was soured when the food appeared, and I laid my eyes on all the pumpkin juice.

"I _hate _pumpkin juice." I groaned. In response, the juice disappeared, replaced by water.

I blinked. "That works."

House Elves worked _fast_. I wondered if I could learn their magic, as well.

**oooo**

So much wonder, and it hasn't even been a full day, yet!

Wizards really do take their world for granted.

**ooooooo**

**Link to my book: mybook,to/TheDregOfBellmead (Replace comma with period)**

**OR look up "The Dreg of Bellmead" on Amazon/Kindle.**

**Link to my discord: discord,gg/Pq5J8dX (Replace comma with period)**

**Come and hang out, we like to meme and talk about shows/movies/fanfics/games! Always nice to make new friends.**


	3. Chapter 2

**oooo  
Chapter 2  
oooo**

**September 2, 1991, 7:15 AM**

I woke up the next day, feeling more comfortable than I had ever felt before.

_Soft beds really make all the difference._ I thought happily. I'd grown so used to the orphanage's old and worn beds that I'd forgotten how good it could feel to just _go to_ _sleep_.

Magic's versatility never ceased to amaze, I thought as I stared around my dorm room. It was great that I got a room all to myself.

From the outside, it seemed to be the size of a small cupboard, but with the use of expansion charms, it became the size of a small room.

One day, I'd be able to weave such magic, too.

I went through my morning stretches- an old habit from my previous life- before my eyes found the wand on the nightstand.

With a smile, I took it gently, exulting in the warmth that spread from my fingertips into my body.

Breakfast was around eight, so I had some time to kill.

Moving a few of my robes in the trunk, I found the Charms Book, _The Standard Book of Spells: Grade 1._ I flipped through the pages, finally stopping at the one I was looking for.

I refreshed my memory by skimming through the pages, and put the book back into the trunk.

Here goes.

I held my wand aloft and focused. "_Lumos_."

The wand gave a very short, weak burst of light.

It was barely there, but I'd managed it.

"_Lumos._" I tried again, excited. The light came out stronger.

I tried a few more times, the light growing brighter and brighter as I got a feel for the spell. It would still sputter and die out on its own, though.

I frowned. Perhaps I needed to set some kind of duration? I thought the spell activated the light and kept it on until I used the counterspell, _Nox._

"Interesting." I muttered and prepared to try the spell again, focusing my intent on setting a timer. Fifteen seconds.

"_Lumos."_ The wand tip lit up. "One, two, three..."

When the count hit seven seconds, the light winked out of existence. I checked the book again, reading up on both it and the counterspell.

"They're like 'on/off' buttons." I said slowly, taking my wand and casting the spell, focusing my intent on the concept of an 'on' switch.

My wand lit up, and I began to count. Fifteen seconds passed with no issue; then, thirty; a minute. By the time it got to a minute and a half, I knew I'd succeeded at the spell.

It was time to try and extinguish the light.

"_Nox._" I cast, picturing an 'off' switch in my mind. The light died out. Success!

There was a knock on the door, bringing me out of my celebratory reverie.

I blinked and opened it, wand still in hand.

"Clarke." An older boy in Ravenclaw robes and a blue badge which said 'PREFECT' addressed me, his eyes curiously resting upon the wand in my hand. "Good, you're awake. The others were still asleep. We leave for breakfast in ten. Meet me in the common room."

With that, he turned and left.

_That's a little abrupt on his part_, I thought. _Then again, these are school kids who are still living in the old age._

I stared down at my wand, discarding the older boy's abrupt and seemingly dismissive nature. It didn't really matter how I was addressed by others, as long as no one tried to bully me.

I'd done that song and dance before in my old life, and the orphanage.

Placing the wand back on the nightstand, I made sure to wear my robes, marveling at the Ravenclaw colors. I wondered just how that worked, exactly.

Did Professor McGonagall cast the spell on me after the sorting? Or, perhaps, Dumbledore? He was the Transfiguration Professor before he'd become Headmaster.

Or, did Malkin enchant the robes to respond to the Sorting Hat's cues? In concept, it would be a simple matter, wouldn't it?

A spell that would trigger once, fully dependent on the Sorting process and the Hat's audio proclamation- but what kind of magic would that take?

Why didn't the robes change color during its song? Why didn't it happen when it sorted someone else?

Hm, perhaps it was a mix of audio cues and proximity, which would go well with the process of needing to wear the hat to be sorted. Perhaps I hadn't given Madam Malkin enough credit- I mean, she still used magic to fabricate _clothing_, but if she'd figured something like this out, then it was a very commendable achievement.

With that thought, I left my room, walking through the slightly tight corridor, down a spiral staircase and into the Ravenclaw common room.

I had expected it to have a library of its own, but it was just a basic lounging area. It made sense- why have two libraries in the school, one of which was only limited to a single group of students?

I didn't think that kind of favoritism would sit well with the parents.

The Ravenclaw prefect who'd knocked on my door was already there. He was a fifth year, with a Middle Eastern look to him- I should know, having been one before.

I gave an amused look at the patchy fuzz growing on his face, remembering a time when I was proud of my facial hair, as well.

What was this fellow's name, again? He'd introduced himself the night before.

"Bashir, right? Colton Bashir." I tried to make sure. The boy gave me an unimpressed look, even as he nodded confirmation.

The two of us waited in silence for a minute longer until the rest of the students came over, looking a mix of frazzled and excited for their first day.

Bashir addressed us all, as another prefect joined him, a blonde girl whose name I'd forgotten. "Follow me, and make sure to remember the route. I don't want to have to show you twice."

The other kids around me grumbled at his attitude, but we all followed him, regardless. I kept my attention on our surroundings, taking note of the several landmarks that would help guide the way to the Great Hall when the time came for me to go off on my own.

As we took our places at the Ravenclaw table, Bashir the prefect told his fellow prefect- it turned out that her name was Mira Goshawk- to fetch the timetables.

She ended up making him do it, to our relief.

"I'm sorry about Colton." Mira said apologetically, sending a glare at the back of the boy in question. "He's very..."

"Pompous?" I supplied, much to the amusement of the kids around me. I had other, less savory words in mind, but I doubted they would be appreciated.

"That's one way of putting it." She replied diplomatically, suppressing the smile that threatened to show on her face. "If you need anything, you can just come to me, all right? I don't know why Colton made prefect, he's not suited to the role at all."

The only reason I could think of was that the alternatives were that much worse. I shrugged. It wasn't worth wasting time on, I thought as the ponce in question returned, timetables tucked under his arm.

"Your timetables, first years." He said simply, placing the stack in front of Padma Patil. "Distribute it among your peers."

While Padma distributed the schedules to us, Colton then handed two stacks to Mira, before turning and distributing the remaining stacks in his care. Mira muttered something unkind under her breath, gave us one final smile, and went to complete her duties.

I gave her a nod and turned my attention to my schedule.

"Double DADA, History of Magic, free period, Lunch, Charms, followed by Transfiguration and Astronomy." I read off Monday's schedule. "They're not taking it easy on us, are they?"

"As expected from the world's most respected school of magic." A pompous kid, Goldstein if I remembered right, said.

I shrugged, placed the schedule in my bag, piled some food on my plate, and pulled out the school map I'd received the night before, reading through it as I helped myself to some eggs and bacon- marveling at the taste of the food once again.

This place was going to spoil me rotten, I thought as I charted the trip to the DADA classroom, as well as the one for History of Magic.

My thoughts came back to Goldstein's statement of the school being the premier choice. I would be paying close attention to his face when he saw Quirrell's 'stuttering buffon' act, and experienced the sheer boredom in Binns' class.

I sent a guarded stare towards the turban wearing fellow, making sure not to look directly at him. Was he already possessed by Voldemort?

My thoughts turned conflicted again. Did I care about stopping Voldemort? As long as I didn't make any waves, things would turn out mostly the same, wouldn't they?

Harry would do his thing, survive death experience after death experience, and save the day at the end.

Or, would he?

Even acting like I'm an unthreatening nobody would have an effect on this world. The pebble had been cast over a decade ago, when I was reborn.

There was no real way to tell what was going to happen.

All I knew was that I, personally, had absolutely no interest in Voldemort's blood crusade, or of the fight between good and evil. I just wanted to learn about and delve into the deepest secrets of magic.

Still, being born to an orphanage meant that I was Muggleborn. So, wouldn't it have been prudent to ingratiate myself to the 'good' side, just for protection's sake?

Maybe give the good guys the tools to quickly succeed against Voldemort and his pack of sadistic racist sycophants?

I snorted, not being able to maintain that line of thought any more. I had a stake in the situation, seeing as I was Muggleborn, but I wasn't going to do anything stupid. There was no way in hell I'd stick my neck out for what was basically a bunch of strangers.

It didn't matter that I felt kinship and admiration for Potter's actions, sorrow for Black's fate and all other sorts of unpleasant feelings.

I was a stranger to them, and they were strangers to me.

Knowing convenient things and cleverly hidden secrets, such as Black's innocence, as well as the nature of Horcruxes would paint a target on my back, as well as generate suspicion in the ranks of the good side.

How else would I explain such detailed knowledge? What would Dumbledore do if I told him I knew everything about him, Grindelwald, Aberforth and Arianna? What about the Horcruxes, the Deathly Hallows, the Order of the Phoenix, the Prophecy, the need for Harry to die?

What would people think if I suddenly revealed that Black was in Azkaban without a trial, and that Pettigrew was alive?

No. It was better to try and stay out of things altogether, as no one would believe me, and I wasn't exactly powerful enough to affect any meaningful change in any of those topics- at least, not without having myself yoked and made to fight whichever side enslaved me first.

With that thought in mind, I got up from the table, shouldered my bookbag and hauled ass to the DADA classroom, closely following the map.

Of course, it was at that moment that Peeves showed up, with a bucket in tow. I dove to the side as the Poltergeist cackled and drenched a few other students.

They all shouted and yelped in alarm, their shock shifting into anger and dismay.

I didn't stick around, quickly turning a corner and standing outside of the DADA classroom. Quirrell wasn't here yet- either on his way, or still in the Great Hall.

I sat down and racked my brain for the spell that would shoot gum at Peeves. Lupin had used it, but what was the incantation again?

"Wad.. Waddiwasi. That's right." I muttered to myself, pulling my wand out and wondering what to do next.

I didn't remember what the wand motions were, if it had any.

With a mental shrug, I pointed it at the wall in front of me. "_Waddiwasi._"

Nothing happened, as expected. I tried a few more times, with absolutely no progress. With a huff, I resolved to research this spell when I had the time to go to the Library- after History of Magic, I'd have a few hours of free time to do so.

It was decided, I thought as other kids began to stand near the classroom door, loudly chattering amongst each other. Mostly, they talked about how excited they were for their first class, and of _the_ Harry Potter.

What a bunch of mindless sheep.

I'd wanted to read more about Potter, but Snape hadn't bothered to get me any information on famous witches and wizards- I supposed it made sense. Why waste the money meant for school supplies to satisfy a student's curiosity?

Maybe, if Flitwick had delivered me the letter, that day, I'd have had more luck on that front, but Snape? I was surprised he hadn't just left me at Diagon Alley, stating that the 'instructions are on your letter.'

I gave a light snort at the thought.

"What's so funny?" Someone asked from my left. I turned to see Terry Boot. He was wide-eyed and curious.

I shot him a sidelong glance, shaking my head. "You wouldn't understand."

He made to say something in response, but Quirrell finally arrived, drawing everyone's attention as he quickly went inside the classroom, with us following.

And so, for the next hour and a half, we were subjected to a classroom that smelled of garlic, and Quirrell's s-s-s-stutters. How he managed to fool the entire school, I had no idea.

Didn't anyone in the magical world have a stutter, or friends or relatives who stutter? Or, perhaps they were so entrenched in the dark age that they simply didn't consider such things as important?

It was mind-boggling how wizards could be so exceedingly talented in fields of magic, but so extremely incompetent in the more mundane fields.

Then again, few people would likely notice the inconsistency of his stutter- Pomphrey, the nurse, being one of them… And the books had never mentioned any interactions between her and Quirrell. Maybe that was it.

Still, I thought as I half-listened to what he was saying, with DADA being useless, as well as the next class of History, I could classify the entire morning of Monday as 'study time'.

And so, the remainder of the class, as well as the History of Magic class which followed it were spent surreptitiously researching the first year spells I'd be expected to have mastered by the end of the year.

Emboldened by my quick grasp of _Lumos _and _Nox_, I felt confident that I'd be able to get the practical aspect of wand-work complete.

Strangely, neither teacher had commented on my use of a fountain pen. Binns probably didn't notice, and Quirrell most likely just didn't care- he was a possessed thing living on borrowed time, after all.

Maybe that was just a fanon thing.

Hopefully, my luck would hold out, I thought as I exited the History of Magic class, ignoring Boot's calls as well as the rest of Ravenclaw and Slytherins.

I had no time for socialization. I had a few hours, and I wanted to hit the Library up. I pulled out my trusty map and began my trek, noting that I had someone on my tail.

I gave a surreptitious look to the left, pretending to admire the portraits while, in reality, I was observing the people following me from the corner of my eye.

Slytherins. Three boys. One blonde with two brutes on either side. Malfoy and his goons.

I walked faster, but the three behind me matched my pace. Stifling a curse, I turned a corner and started to run, quickly taking another turn before they reached the first one.

"Where did the mudblood go?" A boy- probably Draco- said.

"I don't know. Should we look?" Another asked.

"...We'll catch him some other time. No mudblood is worth wasting this much time over." Malfoy said. Their footsteps started to grow weaker and weaker.

They'd left.

I let out the breath I didn't realize I was holding.

That had been close.

What was the point of all that? It's not like I'd had anything to do with the guy.

"Tch." I shunted off the frustration into the void as soon as thoughts went back to Voldemort and the pureblood supremacists backing him.

They were being nuisances right from the get-go. It was a lucky thing that the Hat placed me in Ravenclaw, and not Slytherin. If they were so brazen so as to attack me on the first day of school, in broad daylight, who knew how bad it could have turned out if I'd been sorted in Slytherin?

Attacks from everyone in the dorms, the common room, the Slytherin table.

The threat, while in Ravenclaw, was mitigated. But, then again, Draco and his stooges had _just_ attempted to line-of-sight me.

I frowned thoughtfully. The Ravenclaws also bullied Luna, hadn't they? I would have to plan for that eventuality, as well.

My threat perception of Peeves was lessened drastically, all in under two minutes of walking.

I ended up going to the Library, but not only to figure out how to use Lupin's spell, but to research adequate battle spells, as well.

Just in case.

oooo

"Clarke. Adam."

"Present." I raised my hand, before focusing my attention back on the book in front of me.

It was a few hours later that I was sitting in the Charms classroom, watching the diminutive Professor Flitwick go through roll call.

The time in the Library had been slightly fruitless in terms of finding jinxes. If I'd asked Pince, she'd likely have kicked me out on general principle.

Instead, I'd wandered aimlessly through the library, eventually giving up on the prospect. I was too keyed up by the previous encounter to try and get used to new surroundings.

I ended up pulling out the _Standard Book of Spells: Grade 1_ by Miranda Goshawks- I wondered if Mira was related to her- and reading up on whatever spells would be useful for me.

I ended up singling out two charms. The Softening Charm, _Spongify_, and the Cutting Charm, _Diffindo. _The ability to make things soft and bouncy would be invaluable.

I could simply cast the spell on people's shoes and make a break for it. I wasn't looking to kill anyone, after all. I highly doubted my Head of House, or the Headmaster would approve of such things.

Still, I bookmarked the Cutting Charm, in case of unavoidable situations, in which I needed to project aggression. I wasn't an idiot; I knew that I looked fairly non-threatening. My body was only eleven years old, after all.

There was an excited squeak, and a thud. Ah, Flitwick had gone over Potter's name. I shifted my gaze to see a skinny boy, with untidy black hair and green eyes which shifted in a mix of bemusement and irritation behind his glasses.

His eyes met mine. I snorted and nodded at the class spectacle, not really saying anything. Potter gave a small smile.

The moment didn't last very long, with Flitwick climbing back to resume the roll call before starting off with the lesson.

Amusingly enough, the spell being taught was the Wand-Lighting Charm, _Lumos_. Flitwick was energetic, erudite and quite obviously a master at Charms, as well as the history behind it.

Apparently, this particular charm was able to repel ghosts, as well as a dog-like spirit called a Gytrash; I took notes, figuring that he could be testing us for any of this information at some point.

There was some interesting history surrounding the spell. It'd been invented by a witch named Levina Monkstanley in the eighteenth century. Not realizing the significant impact it would have on the wizarding community, she didn't expect her coworkers at the Ministry to be surprised when she'd casually used it to find a quill in a dark, dusty area behind her desk.

It all fit with my previous assessment of wizards. They had the power to rewrite reality at their fingertips, and they didn't even understand the sheer _weight_ of it.

I raised my hand.

"Yes, Mr… Clarke, wasn't it?" Professor Flitwick acknowledged.

I nodded to show that he'd been correct. "Did the inventor, Levina, know that her spell would be able to repel ghosts and Gytrashes, or was that just a lucky side effect?"

Flitwick's eyes crinkled in delight as he gave me a genial smile. "What do you think? Take the spell's effects into consideration."

I considered the topic, my eyes unfocusing for a few moments as I tried to come up with an answer. "It's a spell to make light, but it's not fire." _Or a tungsten light bulb._

"Good, go on." Professor Flitwick encouraged.

"Though, it's still warm, so there is some kind of energy to it." I frowned, before looking up. "Life energy?"

"Very close! Take one point for Ravenclaw, Mr. Clarke." Professor Flitwick praised. "It is pure magic."

Pure magic, as a substance. "Thank you, Professor." I noted that down.

The theory continued in that way for the next few minutes as he went over the counterspell, _Nox_, and then he had us practicing.

I watched as the students around me attempted it, to little or no results. Weasley had been at it for a minute, getting progressively angrier. Longbottom produced a few sputters, which was probably a ridiculously good performance, considering his father's incompatible wand.

Granger got it in one try, earning three points for Gryffindor.

"Mr. Clarke?" Professor Flitwick approached me.

"Yes, sir?" I turned to the man.

"I see you haven't attempted to cast the spell, yet." He pointed out kindly.

"Oh." I blinked, smiling slightly. "I managed to do it this morning."

"Oh?" Flitwick seemed intrigued, gesturing for me to try it.

I nodded, pulled the wand out of my robe, and cast the spell. "_Lumos."_

The wand lit brightly, just as Granger's had.

"Well done, Mr. Clarke!" Professor Flitwick said excitedly, which was a little confusing. Was it really such a big deal? "As you say you've tried it, I gather you're also able to cast the Wand-Extinguishing Charm?"

I nodded once more, and cast the counterspell. "_Nox._"

The light went out immediately.

"Very good!" Professor Flitwick gave a little clap. "Take another three points to Ravenclaw. I expect great things from you, here, Mr. Clarke."

"Thank you, sir." I accepted the praise, noting that Granger hadn't been able to turn her spell off, just yet. His praise heaped on me seemed to light a fire under her, though.

I suppressed a snort and went back to watching the class.

"Clarke." A girl to my right said- Padma, I realized. "How did you do it?"

"Um… Do you know anything about muggle technology?" I asked. Padma nodded, not sure where I was going with this.

"All right." I said, relieved. "Think of it like an 'on/off' switch. 'On' for _Lumos_, 'Off' for _Nox_, with yourself as the 'battery'."

She looked off to the side as she processed that information, before focusing on her wand again. "All right. _Lumos!_"

Unlike her previous attempts, she got a few blinks of light out of it. It hadn't been successful, but she'd made some good progress.

"Good work." I gave a false smile, the one I used to reserve for nephews and nieces in my old life. "Keep at it, I'm sure you'll have down by the end of class."

She nodded, like she was barely listening to me, trying out the spell, again and again.

In almost no time at all, I found myself in the Transfiguration classroom, another period I shared with Gryffindors.

Professor McGonaggall was already there, sitting on the table in cat form. I stared at her as I took a seat in the middle, wondering just how complete the change was. Did she retain her human mind?

If so, how? The feline brain was _much_ smaller than that of a human. How could she retain control of herself?

The obvious answer was 'magic'. Yes, it was magic, but how did it work? Perhaps a sort-of adaptive expansion charm inside the skull to fit the brain, or maybe a repurposing of the nervous system. I added 'Animagus' to my quickly growing list of things to do.

Just what was the list, so far?

"Let's see…" I muttered, pulling out a small notepad I'd nicked from the orphanage before I'd left. I mentally read off all the major points: Potions, Topic of the Tingle, Waddiwasi, Battle Magic, Lumos and its use against spirits, Animagus.

As expected, however, I couldn't just learn Animagus off the bat. The professor had us transfiguring matchsticks into needles. I'd managed to get the substance silver and the end sharp, but it was still made of wood. Still, that'd earned me a point, at least.

Canon and fanon knowledge gave me a leg up, but not so much that I could simply breeze through everything.

Transfiguration, I realized, would be especially hard considering my knowledge of physics and chemistry. I was essentially rewriting an item's molecular composition on a macro-scale.

I had two choices: run the transfigurations with the idea of molecular shifting firmly in mind, or I could abandon that thought process altogether, instead focusing on the conceptual changing of materials, for example: 'wood' to 'metal'.

It was a hard choice, but one I probably needed to make quickly and early in my education.

There was also another issue.

I was also worried I'd accidentally split an atom in my attempts, if I went the physics/chemistry route. It was mind-boggling how no one ever had this issue- or perhaps, they simply didn't know about all this extra information, and so never encountered it.

They likely focused more on the equation that McGonagall had provided. The Transformation formula; I would have to put that in my list, as well, I realized.

The topics continued to pile up, but it was fine- more than fine. I was honestly delighted. I loved to learn, even if I was likely putting way too much on plate, as it were.

Still, even with all the extra work I was subjecting myself to, I was fairly sure I'd be able to finish the first year curriculum around Christmas, perhaps even sooner, especially when I acclimated to my new accomodations.

I nodded to myself as the class ended, making sure to stick around the other Ravenclaws on the way to my Astronomy class. It was a class we shared with the Slytherins, and with Malfoy out and about...

The extra company seemed to please Boot, at least.

I wondered how he'd react if he knew I was planning on using him as a meatshield, should Slytherins decide to use me for target practice.

_Probably not well._ I thought, suppressing a grin.

**oooo**

That's that for Chapter 2!

I'm not too sure which story to update next. I'm thinking either **The Z Gamer**, or **A Song of Ice, Fire and Lightning.**

Take care!

**ooooooo**

**Link to my book: mybook,to/TheDregOfBellmead (Replace comma with period)**

**OR look up "The Dreg of Bellmead" on Amazon/Kindle.**

**Link to my discord: discord,gg/Pq5J8dX (Replace comma with period)**

**Come and hang out, we like to meme and talk about shows/movies/fanfics/games! Always nice to make new friends.**


	4. Chapter 3

Stay safe out there.

**oooo**

**Chapter 3**

**oooo**

**September 25, 1991, 12:30 PM, Hogwarts Library**

It had been an exciting few weeks, I thought as I turned a page in _Magical Theory._

It was a fascinating book— utterly wasted on eleven year olds, to be sure, but also essential to gain at least a simple understanding of how spells worked.

"To tamper with the deepest mysteries; the source of life, the essence of self." I read the words in the book, remembering them from my old life.

Essence of self... The soul? A strange reference to Horcruxes, perhaps, or something more?

I thought back to the Wand-Lighting Charm, _Lumos_. People used it to act as a flashlight, but it seemed to have extra ghost and spirit repelling properties.

Had the creator accidentally delved into the realm of the... Essence of self? It would make sense, in a roundabout way.

I placed the book back onto the table and thought back to the days of early humanity. I thought of our struggle against the elements, against the darkness and terror of night itself.

The act of making fire was an important milestone for the human race. We challenged the night itself, the mere act of it previously thought to be impossible.

Night was all consuming and full of unseen, deadly creatures— but with fire, it was a matter of shining the light onto them.

Did the Wand-Lighting Charm do the same? Did the magic tap into the essence of self, read the roiling emotion— the intent to banish the darkness and all creatures related to it?

It was an intriguing thought, and potentially useful, besides.

I pulled my notepad out, opened it and began to write:

'_Adapt the use of Lumos to fight against spirits of all kinds, including Dementors. Research into Dementors and Patronus Charm._'

_For now_, I thought as I put the pad away and turned my attention back to the book. _Back to understanding Magical Theory._

Honestly, while intriguing, the book suffered from the same issues most textbooks did: incredibly dry, plodding material. It seemed that the author, Adalbert Waffling, lived up to his name. Bright, but prone to not making direct statements. Happy to just fill the text with speculation after speculation.

Then again, this particular field of magic wasn't something explored by most people, due to a concept that Waffling called 'The First Fundamental Law of Magic.'

It more or less stated that, the further you delved into the mysteries of magic, the worse the repercussions might be if you screwed up. It bore a striking resemblance to Newton's Third Law of Motion: 'for every action, there is a reaction.'

It made sense, though that didn't necessarily mean it was proven, in any way. Still, this was a subject I was highly interested in delving in.

If I could figure out the secrets of magic itself...

A shiver went through me, both pleasurable and terrifying. Were these Tom Riddle's thoughts when he was on the path of mastering his own magic?

Would I have been following the path he'd already trodden decades ago?

I frowned. I didn't really care for the fate of the world. That wasn't to say that my perfect Sunday involved kicking puppies and stealing candy from children, but I wouldn't exactly be too bothered if a stranger happened to be on the wrong side of another's wand in Knockturn Alley.

That was the way of the world, after all. Criminals were a resource that never ran out, purely by virtue of how easier it is to turn to crime than it is to eke out an honest living.

I put the book back on the table and sighed.

I was getting distracted again.

This was the most annoying part of physically being a child. My focus just wasn't what it used to be in my adult years.

Perhaps it was the sheer amount of energy I seemed to have. Perhaps it was the hormonal imbalance all humans go through when they went through the maturation process.

Maybe it was even caused by my magic's growth, as magic seemed entrenched in human emotions and was considered to be the 'essence of self'. It _was_ the source of life.

_A combination of all these factors, most likely_, I thought about the matter for a few moments. How would I be able to manipulate my focus— perhaps direct it?

The answer, of course, was painfully simple: goals.

I needed to set goals. True, the ultimate goal was to pursue the deepest mysteries magic had to offer, but I needed other things to do with my life.

A solid reason to hold onto. Root myself in.

Did I want to exist in this world, or did I want to _live_ in it? Most people could only dream of getting a new lease on life, after all.

"Even the most prolific scientists had hobbies and lives..." I muttered to myself. Albert Einstein, for example, was said to enjoy hiking, biking and playing the violin.

And, believe me, I was no Einstein.

It was settled, then; goals, dreams, hobbies, the works. These were concepts and things I had to begin thinking about once more.

I nodded, grabbing my idea pad and simply writing a 'G' on the cover, before opening it and checking through the list of mysteries I could feasibly tackle at my current level.

Research on the Wand-Lighting Charm, as well as all manner of spirit creatures seemed the most appealing one, so far. Surprisingly enough, Potions was a close second.

I had half expected my Potions class to be some caricature, after having read the series, as well as the tons of fanfictions out there. However, aside from the occasional snide comment, the classes had gone off without a hitch.

Snape's teaching manner did leave much to be desired, but he answered questions just fine, and was fair with his grades- at least, that was my own personal experience.

With Potter, I gathered it was another story entirely, from the rumors alone.

It wasn't my problem, of course. As long as it didn't directly affect me, I didn't see the need to bother.

I wasn't here to lecture people on how they should behave. Hell, if Dumbledore hadn't been able to get through to Snape, then I highly doubted that I, some snot nosed Ravenclaw First Year who asked him one too many questions in class, could.

I snorted at the thought before putting all my books back in the bag. I adjusted the shoulder strap and lugged it with me, taking a step towards Madam Pince, before thinking better of it.

I'd run afoul of her, a week before; an underfed vulture with parchment-like skin, sunken teeth, a shriveled face and a hook nose, terrorizing the children. She cared more about the state of the books than the students learning them.

_Way to nurture a good, learning environment._

With a shake of my head, I turned to search for the books, myself. I would need books related to spiritual creatures of all kinds, a book that describes the nature and effects of emotion based magic, and perhaps even something on spell manipulation.

Twenty minutes into the book hunt, and I had nothing. Well, there was one book dedicated entirely to troll herding— whatever _that_ was. Amusing, but not overly useful to my current goal.

I was beginning to get frustrated as someone brushed past me, muttering an apology as they went. I turned to throw the person in question an annoyed glance, only for my eyes to widen in recognition.

It was Granger, slowly perusing the shelves in search of a book, as well. Though, from her posture and sluggish movements, I could tell she didn't seem to be at a hundred percent.

This was odd, because she was always so ridiculously energetic while in the library— though, of course, quiet, or else Pince would let her _displeasure_ be known. What had happened?

A few moments was all it took for me to nod in understanding. The answer was obvious to me, as it was something I'd dealt with in my previous life.

I'd immigrated to another country, and was excited about meeting the people, making new friends and the like— and that never ended up happening. I behaved, naturally, much like Hermione was now.

Dejected. Rejected.

Miserable.

Maybe, she thought her studiousness wouldn't have been rejected in a world of magic. I understood her logic, of course. It was _magic,_ for God's sake!

It was the ability to play with the rules of reality and bend them to your will, and the students were more interested in skipping class and playing Quidditch than exploring the limitations of what they could _do_.

"Granger, can you help me out?" The words came out of my mouth before I could even help myself.

_Taking pity, Clarke?_ I thought to myself as the girl in question abruptly turned towards me, eyes wide with surprise— though, her expression quickly turned to caution when she recognized me.

Had the encounter at Platform Nine and Three Quarters affected her reaction to me this much? Embarrassing moments tended to do that, I guessed.

_She must have been mortified._

"I don't know… Madam Pince..." Hermione hesitated, but my friendly countenance seemed to change her mind. She took a step forward. "What do you need?"

I told her, and watched the gears whirring in her mind. Abruptly, she turned and left. I followed, amused at the interaction. This was exactly the sort of change I needed to make in myself— I needed that tunnel vision, that single minded determination.

It took a few minutes for the girl to find a book.

"I skimmed through this one on the first day." Hermione whispered and handed me the book in question. It was old and quite worn.

"_Charms Theory._" I read the title. No author noted. "It's as good a place to start as any. Thank you, Granger."

"...You're welcome." She frowned and looked down, suddenly awkward.

I stifled a wince. I was not the most empathetic of people, but Granger was outright _hemorrhaging_ loneliness.

"Sit with me?" I offered.

The glowing smile that spread over her face just about made my heart melt for the earnest girl.

_Damn it, Clarke. What are you getting yourself into?_

**oooo**

**September 27, 1991, 1:10 PM, Great Hall**

"You can't just hang out with Granger, Adam!" Boot said hotly after our Flying class. "You're a _Ravenclaw_."

"So?" I challenged as I sipped from my cup of water, eyes rolling at the boy's outburst.

It had only been a few days since my meeting with Hermione, and Boot had taken offense to my canceling plans with him to hang out with the fuzzball of a girl, instead.

"She's a _Gryffindor_." Boot nodded, his case closed. Amusingly enough, a few of the other kids joined in the nodding, some even murmuring in agreement.

It hadn't even been a month, and they'd already fallen into the tribal mentality?

"Lay off, Terry." I cut in before anyone else could tell her to leave. "I like hanging out with her. We talk about a lot of things."

"_You?_" Was his incredulous. "You never talk to anyone!"

"Not true." I tried to project an air of innocence mixed in with the barest of hints of condescension. "I'm talking to you, right now."

I suppressed a smile at the frustration on his face. _It is so easy to needle children._

"That's not what I— ugh, fine!" Boot huffed, took his book bag and left the Great Hall, throwing angry glares towards me every few feet.

"You've done it now, Clarke." Corner sighed. "He'll remember that."

"Better that he does." I gave an uncaring shrug. I didn't need friends like that— ones that were controlling and demanded all of your time. True, he was an eleven year old kid, likely thinking he was losing his only friend.

He probably saw this as the end of the world. I snorted at the thought. Friends mostly came and went, in my life— with a few sticking around, happy to deal with my acerbic and often scathing nature.

I shook my head of any thoughts of friends from a past life. They were gone. In another universe, in another time. Maybe, someday, I would learn the methods of traveling back to my home world, but I rather doubted it would happen in the next five decades, let alone anytime soon.

I wouldn't have been a good friend to Boot, anyway. Too obsessed with Quidditch, he was.

Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed flying on a broom well enough, and the concept of enchanting a broom to fly was fascinating. I could accomplish a lot with that sort of knowledge.

But, Quidditch? You couldn't pay me to play, or even attend the matches.

I turned my head towards the Gryffindor table, where I saw Hermione hounding the second youngest Weasley over his atrocious table manners— I felt a little queasy, even from this distance.

Jeez.

Potter, on the other hand, seemed as happy as a clam at high tide. He looked a little tired— likely from his training with the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain— but he was positively glowing with energy, eating his food voraciously, but cleanly.

For a moment, the two of us exchanged glances just long enough for him to realize I was staring. He averted his gaze, breaking the staredown.

I looked elsewhere, deep in thought.

Potter was someone I used to be very conflicted over. I related with him on so many levels, but there had been many times when I was trying very hard to not rip my hair out while I was reading the series.

I'd made my peace with it long before I'd been reincarnated. He was a hero in the making, stunted by forces outside his control, but he eventually grit his teeth and got the job done.

So, I couldn't fault him for wanting to enjoy himself while he still could. Hell, at the moment, he likely wasn't even aware of the true dangers surrounding him.

_What do I do about that?_ I thought, not for the first time, with a huff. _Should I do anything?_

Corner suggested I go patch things up with Boot, incorrectly assuming the little spat had been the source of the small outburst.

I didn't acknowledge his statement as I left the Great Hall, absently heading towards the staircases.

Potter was an interesting sort of wizard. He coasted along his classes alongside his friend, Weasley, but his practical work was impressive— the sign of someone who learned from practice, not theory.

His passion was being stifled by his hanger-on, and there was likely nothing I could do about it.

A more important question was: did I want to do anything about it?

The more the days passed here, the harder it was for me to dismiss these people as just characters in a story. They certainly were characters from a book; I didn't imagine reading Rowling's works, after all.

However, they were also _real_.

They lived long, full lives. They weren't some NPCs which followed rigid scripts. My many interactions and encounters with everyone had proven that beyond the shadow of any doubt.

Sure, Harry had seemingly followed the script and had been inducted into the Quidditch team just like in the books, but I highly doubted it was going to turn out any other way. The boy's talent at flying was too obvious.

Still, I wondered what would have happened had I snatched Longbottom's Remembrall just before Potter's first Flying practice. Would it have changed anything?

Harry _might_ have not made the Quidditch team, which would have saved him from Quirrell's murder attempt, which would have removed any suspicion the trio had concerning Snape… But was that the case, _truly?_

Would it have changed canon, in any way? Or, did Magic itself, the source of life, the essence of everything, force the world to adhere to its desires?

Prophecy magic was real, after all. Trelawney was a bonafide seer, though the class she taught was beyond useless.

Were any changes I affected by simply being alive making any changes in the world at large? Or, was I going to live the rest of my days as some background character?

A chilling thought: perhaps I _was_ one of the many background characters in the book series, and I was simply never mentioned. Rowling had ignored a good amount of characters, after all.

Any thoughts on Potter, prophecy magic, fate, my worth as an active agent in this world, and the seemingly inevitable Second War were thrown out of my mind when I heard the sound of expectant snickering ahead of me.

I turned tail and ran, ignoring the cries of dismay and calls to chase. "Get him!"

_What a time to be without my meat shield. Boot and his overreactions..._

I turned a corner, only to find myself face to face with an enormously fat, and pig-like boy. _Crabbe._

His meaty hands grabbed onto my shoulders, and he began to crow. "I've got him!"

But, my wand was already out, held in front of his eyes.

"_Lumos!_" I cried, injecting all of my sudden fear into the spell. The wand tip lit like an ancient, fiery beacon. What few studies I'd made with Granger had given me enough of an understanding of the Wand-Lighting charm that I could use it to temporarily blind others.

Crabbe began to shriek, letting go of me in favor of furiously rubbing at his eyes. I ran past him, muttering a quick _"Nox!" _and reaching the staircases once again.

I got on, noting the faint sounds of displeasure and the scrapes and pitter patter of hurried footsteps. The Slytherins were giving chase.

I would have one shot at escaping this, I thought as the staircase moved to its next destination— the Seventh Floor.

I hadn't sought out the Room of Requirement, just yet, and I cursed myself every second as I began to tire, with the portrait of Barnabas the Barmy being nowhere in sight.

_Wait, there!_

I stared at the portrait for the barest of moments— a bizarre representation of a man attempting to teach Trolls how to dance the ballet— and swiftly walked back and forth three times.

"I want a place to hide." I kept muttering, over and over, until the stone seemed to shimmer and melt, revealing a door, which I immediately entered, closing it behind me just in time for the sound of hurried footsteps reaching my ears.

I felt the air around me tingle as the door seemed to shimmer, its texture becoming that of the wall it was set in. I imagined it was completely hidden, on the other side.

I breathed through my nose as slowly as I could as the students' footsteps got louder and louder, until I was sure they were all standing a few feet from me.

My heart rate quickened, but I maintained my current breathing, mentally admonishing myself for freaking out. This was the Room of Requirement. There was no way any of them knew it even existed, let alone how to operate it.

"Where is he?" One of them— Draco Malfoy, I realized— cried in dismay. Did this kid have a hard-on for me, or something? This was the sixth time this month he'd attempted to try and put the 'uppity Mudblood' in his place. "You said he came this way."

"We all saw him go up the stairs, Malfoy." Another Slytherin, an older student from the sound of it, said in annoyance. "He's just too fast."

"I didn't pay you to make excuses, Bletchley." Malfoy said derisively, though he didn't disagree with what was said. "Whatever. Since we didn't catch Clarke, we might as well deal with _you_."

"What do you—" A familiar voice said before I heard the sound of a scuffle. "Let go of me!"

That voice— Terry Boot.

"Maybe this will teach you to lead us on a wild chase, Boot." Malfoy said snidely. "Bletchley, would you care to do the honors?"

I could have leapt out of the room and taken them on, to stop Boot from getting hurt.

_Why should I?_ The snarled thought came almost violently.

It was obvious what had happened here. Boot had just sold me out to Malfoy because of a childish tantrum.

_He's only a kid._ Part of me said.

_Fuck him._ Another part dismissed. _I have no place for traitors. If he would sell me out this easily, then I had no need for him._

"It would be my pleasure." The older boy, Bletchley, said enthusiastically. "Hold still, Boot. _Furnunculus!_"

Boot cried out in mortification as the spell took hold.

_The Pimple Jinx._ I thought, staying quiet as the Slytherin boys began to laugh at Boot's plight. There was the sound of a thud— Boot likely being thrown on the cold, stone floor.

The Slytherins had their fill of laughter, as Boot's cries and hurried footsteps filled the halls.

"Did you see his face, the big lump?!" Malfoy crowed in glee. "That ought to teach him to mess with us."

"What about the Mudblood, Draco?" Crabbe, I thought, said excitedly.

"Well, if you hadn't _let the filth go_." Bletchley threw in scathingly. "We would have gotten him, too. He's escaped you, how many times?"

_Five times._ My mind supplied. I'd had to avoid them five times over the course of a month alone. This was the sixth. The first time, I was lucky enough to escape, and the other times, I'd made use of Ravenclaw as a herd amongst whom I could hide to avoid the unwanted attention from Malfoy and his cronies.

This time, I'd been lucky enough that I could reach the Room of Requirement and use it to hide from my would-have-been-tormenters.

"It doesn't matter." Bletchley's voice cracked, and he hurriedly cleared his throat, sounding embarrassed. "We'll get him sooner or later. He can't run and hide forever."

I closely listened to their receding footsteps, their carefree laughs, their mockery of Boot, until there was nothing left but the silence of Hogwarts Castle.

Still, I stayed hidden in the small space, not daring to exit the Room just yet. It may have sounded like they walked off, but there was the slight possibility that it was some kind of ruse, meant to make me feel safe and reveal myself, in some way.

'_He can't run and hide forever.'_ Bletchley had said.

He was right. It was only a matter of time until they caught me. It was obvious that there was no love lost between myself, and my House.

If Boot, my supposed friend, sold me out so easily, then there was no way that the other Ravenclaws would help me out— especially with Malfoy paying them to look the other way. They'd seemed perfectly fine with Lovegood's bullying.

And so, in that cramped hiding space on the Seventh Floor, I quietly seethed in anger at the nuisance which was Draco Malfoy.

After an indeterminate amount of time spent tensely hiding, I exited the room and headed to the Library, a few new goals set in my mind.

_Learn how to fight effectively with magic._

_Teach Draco Malfoy a lesson he'll never forget._

Strangely enough, Granger only seemed very mildly disapproving when I asked her to find the necessary books on the topic, though I caught her sending me a few curious looks.

_It seems she's as much a fan of Draco Malfoy as I am._

**ooooooo**

**Link to my book: mybook,to/TheDregOfBellmead (Replace comma with period)**

**OR look up "The Dreg of Bellmead" on Amazon/Kindle.**

**Link to my discord: discord,gg/Pq5J8dX (Replace comma with period)**

**Come and hang out, we like to meme and talk about shows/movies/fanfics/games! Always nice to make new friends.**


	5. Chapter 4

**oooo**

**Chapter 4**

**oooo**

**October 3, 1991, 6:30 PM, Room of Requirement**

I stood in the middle of the Room, staring at my obstinate target— a test dummy.

_Again._

I held my wand aloft and twisted it in a spiral before tapping my target on the head.

"_Praetexo."_

The dummy shifted colors for a few moments before returning to normal.

I frowned, but went to my desk and took notes.

_Target has changed its coloration from beige to a light grey, signifying that progress is being made with the spell._

_Further testing required. It seems that intent truly is the key to spellcasting, though a solid grounding in magical theory and the various effects achieved through wand motions_—_ and wandlore itself in general_— _have a great impact on the effectiveness of the spell._

_Best educated guess: knowing that incantations and wand movements are unnecessary, then the spells themselves heavily rely on intent._

_Though, it is not as simple as simply willing something to happen, but utilizing one's intent to affect changes in the magical energies(?) being channeled._

_The wand motions and incantation likely create easy mental pathways to streamline the process_— _a sort of buffer(?) technique to give the mind some slack from directly controlling the magical energy?_

_Repeating the motion and incantation reinforces said mental pathways, much like how muscle memory is created: repetition until you reach success._

I lifted my pen and stared at the words I wrote, muttering. "If that's the case…"

If that was _truly_ the case, then what was the point of learning spells at all? Why not simply learn how to work the energies of magic into usable patterns?

From what I remembered, Tom Riddle had been able to actively use magic before he'd even owned a wand— levitation, some kind of torture spell, a few other things.

I pulled my special notebook and added another goal to the list: learn how to channel magic itself to work spells, rather than adhere to the current imposed system in place.

Why would I have even bothered with something like this?

Knowing the Ministry, I figured the current magic system served two purposes: one, it streamlined the process so that wizards could quickly learn specific spells in order to get jobs.

For example, there were spells relating to Herbology, spells for clothes like the ones Madam Malkin was using when I'd visited Diagon Alley. I was sure there were spells specifically tailored to healing, and so on. The domains were too varied for me to count.

The second reason was a little more sinister: information suppression. Whether it was intentional or not, I didn't have a clue. Perhaps the suppression was due to how much of an annoyance learning this particular technique was?

_That's if it even is a technique._ Part of me countered. _You're working with the bare minimum of information and assuming that you don't need to learn spells, only how to channel magic itself. Baseless assumptions._

_If I'm right._ I shot back at myself. _Then I do only need to learn how to channel magic, itself._

However, was I willing to sacrifice my grades at school just to test out this wild, baseless theory?

Probably not.

Was I going to test the hell out of it in my free time, though?

_Hell. Yes._

But first… I moved back to the dummy and tried the spell again, twisting my wand in the correct motion and speaking the incantation, focusing my intent on adding the properties of a chameleon to its skin.

Its colors and textures very slowly shifted to match whatever was behind it— in this case, the stone walls of Hogwarts. Two seconds later, the spell failed, leaving me slightly winded.

I took a deep breath and sank in my seat. "It _worked. _I actually did it."

Granted, I barely held it for a second or two, but it was still magic above the Fifth Year level, and I was doing it as a First Year.

Then again, I was much older than any of the students, mentally. It made sense that I'd grasp these sorts of spells. I was likely only held back by my own inefficient methods of channeling the magic.

Only practice would solve something like that.

"Yet another thing to research." I muttered and noted something down in the special notebook. _Where do wizards derive power? Inside of the body? From another plane of existence? If so, why do we get tired after using spells?_

Did the body behave as a medium for the magic, thus forcing it to expend its own energies to weather the stress, or was the power within the body itself?

I sat back in my chair and pondered this particular question.

A dragon was a magical creature, whose magic lay in its breath of fire, as well as the hardness of its scales. A phoenix was able to teleport, carry great weights, and resurrect itself. A basilisk could kill with direct eye contact.

All of these examples used magic in their bodies, in some way. The logical conclusion to this would be that a wizard's body contained magic.

Otherwise, why would I have needed to get matched with a wand, in the first place? It would have needed to resonate with whatever's inside me.

Nodding, I added a few points to research and closed the notebook. There were still things I wanted to practice, but I didn't want to go overboard and find myself in the Hospital Wing.

The previous time had been bad enough.

Oh, yes. Two days ago, Malfoy had gone full on sneaky and tagged me with a spell— the same one Bletchley had used on Boot just outside this room.

"Furnunculus." I mouthed the incantation and frowned. That entire situation had been a shit show. At first, I'd felt betrayed by the boy who was supposed to be my friend, but after further thought, I realized that my dismissive attitude, followed by the condescension had likely driven him down this path, so I shared some of the blame at the very least.

It didn't mean that I was willing to patch things up with the boy, of course. One of my guiding principles in life was to never let my guard down around traitors.

I sighed. Dealing with children was proving harder than it needed to be. I had hated socializing in school in my previous life, and it seemed that this new slate was quickly turning out to be more of the same.

_The only answer is to be overwhelmingly powerful._ I reasoned, beginning to pack my things. _It'll also help in the long run. If I learn how to fight, I'll survive long enough to truly pursue all of the mysteries magic has to offer. Plus, it's not like learning battle spells will count as me being idle._

I nodded, placing the final item back in my new bag before shouldering it.

This bag was something else— bigger on the inside, and very light. I'd gotten it from this very Room.

After my encounter with Draco and his stooges, I had decided to seek the Room of Requirement again; more specifically, the Room of Hidden Things.

I had been looking for an Invisibility Cloak, but it was not to be. I did, however, find this bag, instead.

It was old and the straps were clearly worn with use and age, but it had a charm to make it light as a feather, as well as bigger on the inside. A quick _Reparo_ had put it back into working order, netting me a very useful item— especially when I eventually had to go back to the orphanage.

I wanted to explore the Room of Hidden Things further, but I also didn't want to arouse suspicion from any of the Prefects— or worse, the teachers.

It was already getting late, I thought as I looked outside of the window created by the Room. Its magic never ceased to amaze me. I saw the Great Lake shimmering with the light of the slowly setting sun, the previously blue sky taking on hints of yellow, orange and red.

Soon enough, the sky would be black, I thought as I turned away from the window and exited the Room, the door fading into the wall and leaving nothing behind.

I began the trek to the Great Hall.

The coast, so far, was clear. Still, I held my wand at the ready, smiling slightly as the steady heat emanating into me soothed my nerves.

By the time I reached the third floor, I breathed a sigh of relief and joined the herd of students making their way to dinner.

I was the odd one out, as these were all Hufflepuffs and obviously older than I was— Third or Fourth Years from the looks of it— but I doubted that Draco and his posse would have dared to lob spells at a large unsuspecting group of older students and hope to get away with it.

Minutes later, I was at my regular seat on the Ravenclaw table, patiently waiting as Goldstein attempted conversation with me. I nodded at the right times and asked all the right questions. He seemed pleased enough that he scooted closer to me.

"Um… want to see my coin collection later?" He said hopefully, though there was a hint of hesitation in the way he said it.

I blinked. I'd never known the boy had a fascination with coins from the books. Then again, all I could remember was a few favorable scenes involving him from _Order of the Phoenix_, and that he was a half-blood.

"A coin collection, huh?" I repeated the words, smiling slightly as an old memory dislodged itself from the deepest recesses of my mind. Once upon a time, I'd indulged in the practice.

"Yes." He hedged, and continued at my nod. "It's ever so fascinating— you can learn alot from a nation's old history and culture from the coins they used in the past."

"Or, even now, I'd reckon." I smiled, my view of the boy rising up several notches. Here was a lad with a head on his shoulders.

"Exactly!" Goldstein blurted out, though managed to catch himself. "So, um… You want to?"

_I guess Granger isn't the only one having issues making friends, huh?_ I stifled an eye-roll. _I seem to be taking in strays, left and right._

"Sure, I'd be interested in seeing what kind of collection you have." I gave my consent.

"Brilliant!" His voice rose several octaves, drawing the attention of the older students.

Goldstein shrunk into himself, embarrassed at his own outburst. "I mean, um, cool. That's cool."

"Cool." I piled some food onto my plate just as Boot finally showed up, Michael Corner awkwardly shuffling next to him.

My eyes barely went over Boot— he didn't deserve the least of my attention, I thought to myself— settling on Corner's constipated face. Was he one of those kids who had trouble falling in step with other humans?

I briefly tensed as the two took their seats. Thankfully, Corner took the seat directly next to mine, saving me the trouble of asking Goldstein to switch.

_Wouldn't that have been awkward?_

"All right, Clarke?" Came the fake greeting from Boot.

I had to give him credit: if I hadn't witnessed his betrayal firsthand, I'd never have guessed that he'd been the one to sell me out.

Why was he even addressing me, anyway? Was it out of a sense of guilt? Was he trying to make amends in some way, or was it another trick to lure me into a false sense of security?

He'd straight up ignored me for the first few days after the incident— something which I'd been very glad for. Navigating that situation would have been too much effort for my liking.

I decided to continue my façade of ignorance, if only to keep the boy unaware of my true thoughts. Knowledge was power, after all.

"Yes." The reply came easily enough; I gave a fake smile. "Yourself?"

_You're not the only one who can play this game, kid._

"'M fine." was his mutter as he began to pile food on his plate, his way of ending the conversation. I shrugged, glad to be done with that.

oooo

**October 16, 1991, 9:00 AM, Ravenclaw Dorms**

Waking up had been tougher than usual— I'd overworked myself with spell practice the day before.

I had been having trouble shedding the grogginess that came with a little too much sleep, but discovering that my shoes were not where they were supposed to be filled me with just enough panic to wake me up fully.

I checked under the bed— perhaps I'd accidentally sent them there. Still nothing.

Another check, and I finally found my shoes. I'd kicked them off too hard and they'd found themselves behind the door.

For a few moments, I'd thought that Boot had tried something new to spice things up a tad; a bullying tactic à la Luna Lovegood.

I had been just about ready to smash the boy's face against the wall, had he tried anything.

I sighed and took a deep breath. My paranoia was getting out of hand.

_But how can I feel safe when I have a traitor from within and enemies on the outside waiting for an opportunity to strike at me?_ I wondered.

True, it was just schoolboy shenanigans, but it could just as easily turn into something worse, maybe even permanent. We may have been attending a school, but it was a school of _magic_.

Innocuous spells could be adapted to inflict bodily harm, possibly death on others. I'd read _Lord of the Flies_ in my previous life.

A child's mentality would often be brutal and vicious while remaining strangely innocent. Children were the most dangerous creatures to hand power to— and every child in this castle was equipped with a tool capable of warping reality.

Was my paranoia unhealthy? Yes.

Was it justified? Also, yes.

What to do about it, though? I needed to go back to basics. Arguing and reasoning never worked with kids. The time at the orphanage reminded me of that fact very quickly.

The unexplained events occurring around me— my accidental magic, as I now knew it to be— had instilled a sense of fear in the other kids. It was one of the few saving graces of this existence.

_Perhaps a repeat performance?_ I thought slowly.

A show of strength so ridiculous that none would dare cross me. Boot was currently not doing a thing to me, but Malfoy and his posse were still trying to catch me alone and unawares.

They needed to be dealt with.

My mind began to whirr with ideas: direct confrontation was thrown right out of the window; casting spells from a position of stealth had merit, but it could ultimately be traced back to me through basic investigative questions, followed by wand-checks.

I briefly considered the idea of using prank items— I was sure Zonko's would appreciate the patronage— but decided to leave that idea be for a while.

Pranks would cause an escalation, as they were harmless enough to not warrant punishment, but humiliating enough to stoke the fuels of revenge in children's hearts.

I didn't need anger. I needed them to fear me, to fear my power so much that the thought of crossing me wouldn't even be considered, let alone brought to reality.

I shivered, wondering if this was how Riddle conducted his business from the get-go. I shook my head.

I was nothing like the nutcase. This was just proactive self-defense, nothing more to it. I didn't derive any particular satisfaction from the act.

Hell, I would have preferred to continue learning the intricacies surrounding the _Lumos _spell than learn how to disillusion myself, as well as learn spells for dueling.

I was quickly getting sick and tired of wondering whether the next corner I turned revealed a band of boys and girls in black and green with nasty looks and equally nasty smiles, their wands exploding with spells to give me pimples, turn my teeth huge, or make me vomit up slugs.

I nodded to myself, once again convinced that what I was doing was the proper course of action, even if it were not necessarily the right thing to do.

Considering the backwards society I now was a part of, I rather doubted that going to the teachers would do a single thing.

Malfoy's family was loaded, his father had friends in high places and would probably cause a whole lot of trouble for the teachers— if they even believed my tale, in the first place.

No, I would have to do this on my own.

"After classes today." I told myself. "I'll just adjust the plan to distract the boy with other problems, rather than make him fear me."

And I had just the solution.

oooo

It was now six thirty in the evening, and I was having dinner; a simple, light plate of meat and veggies, washed down with a cup of water.

I pondered on the slowness of the day as Goldstein regaled me with tales of old Italian coins his mother had found when he was seven.

Classes had progressed at a snail's pace. History of Magic, and double Herbology; Herbology was an interesting enough class, to be sure, but all I could think about was the actions I was about to undertake.

Even now, as I waited for the right moment, all I could feel was the crushing boredom associated with doing nothing.

_It's almost time. _I thought as the students began to stir in their seats, the long day finally taking its toll on their young bodies— except mine.

The anticipation of what I was about to do alone filled me with energy. With a nod to Goldstein, as well as a few other of the Ravenclaws, I excused myself and exited the Great Hall. I went through a few hallways, ignoring some of the early leavers and finally finding an empty spot.

Twirling the wand around my head as though I was wrapping myself with rope and finally tapping it on my forehead, I spoke the spell.

"_Praetexo."_

This was it, the spell I'd been practicing almost religiously for weeks, now, to the exclusion of all else— save my schoolwork, of course.

_It wouldn't do to arouse any sort of suspicion, _I thought as I felt the spell's slimy effects, like a raw egg dribbling down all over my body, hiding me from view.

I checked myself once, twice, and nodded in satisfaction.

I wasn't completely invisible, but this would do quite well in the darkness of the evening and night. Smiling, I headed towards the Great Hall again, and camped its doors.

Soon enough, the students began to exit the Great Hall in droves, animatedly chatting amongst each other as they headed towards their common rooms.

I spied the older Slytherins beginning to exit and waited until Malfoy and his posse were in sight, before following them quietly.

I did my best to watch my step, not having learned the spell to silence my footsteps— it would have taken me another week or two to enact this plan, and I'd already been waiting for quite a while.

Besides, they hadn't even turned their eyes towards me, and I was already adept at moving silently, especially on floors which didn't creak when I put my weight on them such as the stone floors of Hogwarts Castle.

"Draco." One of the girls of the group, Parkinson, sidled by the blond haired boy, her voice almost sickly sweet. "Did you by any chance finish your Charms homework?"

"I might have." The boy replied, but said nothing further.

"Do you think you could…" Here, the girl hesitated. "Help me with mine?"

I stifled an eye-roll at the painfully awkward conversation and focused on keeping up with the group while maintaining my silent movements, instead.

The girl continued her efforts to get the boy to spend time with her, but Draco had, to his credit, managed to deflect all of her questions and swing the conversation back to safe topics, like making fun of Potter and Weasley.

"Have you seen their pet Mudblood, though?" One of the boys, Theodore Nott sneered. "Follows them around like a lost puppy."

"How pathetic." Another girl threw in, drawing laughter out of the group.

I narrowed my eyes at the interplay. This was what Potter was up against. It was racism so subtle and so ingrained into the society that even kids were talking about Muggleborn like they were subhuman.

And, when something was subhuman, it opened up a great deal of things you could do to that person without it being morally or legally wrong to do— like, say, disallow them from job advancement, hunt them down like animals, try them for 'stealing' magic, and whatever other excuse the corrupt were able to come up with to justify their unnecessary, baseless hatred.

What was even the point of it all? Were the Muggleborn truly that threatening to the Purebloods?

_I'm sure the Germans saw their Jewish population in much the same way_. _Stealing their jobs and livelihoods, or whatever other piece of propaganda the Nazis had used to turn its people against the Jews._ Part of me reckoned as I followed the group into the dungeons, shivering slightly as the temperature dropped a few degrees.

I'd never been here late in the evening, and the temperature shift most likely ensured that I would avoid it as much as I could, in the future.

I continued to follow them past the Potions Classroom until, a few minutes later, we reached a stretch of bare wall.

The kids, amusingly enough, turned around to make sure that no one was there. I stood still as all of their eyes passed over me without a hint of recognition on their part.

_I've practiced this damn spell for way too long to be caught by a bunch of kids in the dark._ I felt a superior smile make its way over my face.

"Purity." Draco spoke, and the passage opened up, the sound of stone grinding against stone filling the air for a few moments before they filed into the common room.

_Of course, the damn password is 'Purity'._

Slowly, I followed them inside, making sure to keep my breaths slow and steady, despite the insistent and slightly sped up beating of my heart.

Eventually, it too calmed down and allowed me to relax enough to be able to observe my surroundings once again. I stuck to the corners, away from any lights and anything I could have possibly stumbled upon.

I kept my eye on all of the students, making sure to stay as small a target as possible. I wasn't able to hear anything the First Years were saying, as I was too busy changing my position every few minutes in order to avoid the boisterous and rowdy students.

It was somewhat intriguing how the Slytherin students only let their hair down in the confines of their Common Room. I'd never seen such behavior out of them in my time here, so far.

Coupled that with what I'd already observed from the book series, and I knew that they were truly insular as a group.

It was insidious, in a way. With the group always closed off, it disallowed students from looking up different lifestyles, or worldviews.

True enough, I doubted that the Slytherin House was full of backstabbing, conniving pieces of trash, but the ones considered to be the leaders _were_.

Leaders were people like Flint, Bletchley, and Draco Malfoy. Arrogant, capable of violence, of petty cruelty and much more. With a leader so horrible, was it really a surprise that the general Slytherin student was perceived as malicious?

I knew, even as part of me voiced its intense dislike of this House, that such a viewpoint would force these kids to stick to the group that much more.

The leaders swayed them, and the other houses forced them even further away. It was an endless cycle, a feud created centuries ago by people whose names no one remembers anymore.

Aside from the big two: Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin. Such stupid names, I'd thought when I first came across them in my previous life.

Here, however, they were revered as almost gods. Them, Merlin, and Morgana Lefay.

_It's a shame_, I thought as I watched the crowd of kids' energy slowly wane until they were all sleepy little messes. _All of this potential, wasted by the power hungry and the corrupt. People with ambition and cunning reduced to becoming simple thugs and future enforcers of inhumane laws._

Still, it wasn't my job to fix things. Hell, I wouldn't have known where to start, even if it _were_ my job.

I gave a mental shrug at the entire line of thought— my own safety was a bit more important to worry about, in this situation.

I'd made it all the way to the Slytherin Common room, a feat which the Slytherins liked to say hadn't been done in seven centuries.

_Days since unwanted entry: 0._ I thought with a smile as I noticed the First Years finally deciding to turn in. _They even go to bed as a group._ _The brainwashing level is ridiculous._

I didn't immediately follow them, using the darkness as cover and spying the movement of the group from afar, turning corners only when it was necessary for me to do this.

I'd already avoided bumping into a few older years, this way. A tense minute later, I noted where their dorm room was, and slowly made my way back to the common room.

Now, came a hard part of my plan: waiting.

Luckily, the Slytherin Common Room was almost empty, so it was a matter of finding a place to sit and counting down the hours— wait, no; they had a clock in here.

Wouldn't have been much of a Common Room without one, I supposed. Still, this would make my job a little easier.

I took a spot in a dark, unused corner and let myself rest. As long as I remained immobile, none of the remaining students— Sixth and Seventh Years from the looks of it— would have noticed me.

I listened in to their conversations, half expecting them to be talking about evil Mudbloods and whatnot. I was pleasantly amused to note that they were speaking of Ancient Runes, instead.

I'd never seen the point of taking a course like this— at least in canon, anyway. The fanon version of Ancient Runes' progression into the Curse Breaking field made it sound like becoming a magical version of Indiana Jones.

In reality, it was more along the lines of old languages learned to be able to read ancient texts. Still useful to learn, to be sure, but not important enough to have it as a gradable class.

I would learn them on my own time, and the Room of Requirement would provide the necessary progression of books, if the studious Granger or the monstrous Pince didn't tell me, first.

Worst case scenario, if all else failed, I could simply ask the Ancient Runes professor, or the workers at Flourish and Blotts' in the future. It wasn't a huge deal.

A quick check to the clock showed that it was past midnight— had I really been sitting in the same spot for hours? I stifled an amused snort and slowly got to my feet, stretching out the kinks and feeling a dull ache over my lower body.

_That's what happens when you sit on the cold, stone floor for hours_. I thought and took a deep breath to center myself. Slowly, I reapplied the Disillusionment Charm, just in case it was anywhere near failing.

A few seconds of checking myself, and I was ready.

Slowly, carefully, I inched my way to the dorm room of the First Year boys. I reached the door, stopping just next to it and going completely silent.

Then, I simply _listened._ For minutes on end. I noted the snores and soft breaths of the various boys, slowly getting used to their rhythms, before finally deciding to enact the final, hardest part of the plan.

The door opened slowly, but soundlessly— I praised whatever higher being there was up there that the door hinges had been oiled— revealing a large bedroom with five beds lined up on one side, with a small lounging area on the other. At the foot of each bed lay the individual trunks of the students.

Conveniently enough, Draco's bed was the first one.

_Convenient, and predictable. Since he's the supposed alpha of the group, he gets to pick the bed nearest to the door. _I thought derisively as I watched the boy in question sleeping peacefully, a smirk on his face. _You don't look so tough, now, Drakey boy._

I shook the thoughts away and knelt by the trunk, opening it _very _slowly. I sifted through the trunk's contents, grabbing a small bag of what felt like money, as well as snatching a few knick knacks, here and there.

I got to my feet, leaving the trunk open before heading towards the farthest bed in the room— Nott's bed. This was the beauty of the plan, right here.

I placed the knick knacks under Nott's bed and then opened the boy's trunk, placing Draco's bag of gold inside before closing it gently.

The boy, Nott, twisted in his bed, and for a moment I thought I'd woken him up. I stayed extremely still, ready to bolt at a moment's notice.

A full minute passed with me not moving a single muscle.

Nott began to snore, and loudly.

Satisfied that my cover wasn't blown, I slowly inched my way outside of the room, gently closing the door behind me and making my way outside of the Slytherin Dorms. The Common Room, aside from a pair of Sixth Years getting a little intimate, was empty.

I eyed the pair and recognized them as part of the group who'd been talking about Ancient Runes, earlier, before shaking my head and making way towards the exit.

With a mutter of 'Purity', the passageway opened, revealing the dark dungeons of Hogwarts.

I left the Slytherin Dorms, sighing as I shedded a massive weight off of my shoulders.

_With this, Malfoy will be too busy looking over his shoulder to bother with me._ I thought, a smile making its way over my face. _At least for a while. If he still keeps at it, after, then…_

Well, I now knew where the arrogant boy slept, and I was certainly not going to waste any time if he persisted in his destructive behavior.

**oooo**

**Hope you enjoyed it! I certainly enjoyed writing it.**

**ooooooo**

**Link to my book: mybook,to/TheDregOfBellmead (Replace comma with period)**

**OR look up "The Dreg of Bellmead" on Amazon/Kindle.**

**Link to my discord: discord,gg/Pq5J8dX (Replace comma with period)**

**Come and hang out, we like to meme and talk about shows/movies/fanfics/games! Always nice to make new friends.**


	6. Chapter 5

**oooo  
Chapter 5  
oooo**

**October 31, 1991, 12:30 PM, Room of Requirement**

"_Praetexo!"_ I whispered and tapped the wand on the top of my head, feeling the effects of the spell take hold. I waited a few seconds, before nodding and moving to stand in front of the nearby mirror.

Nothing but a very faint, watery shimmer in the air when standing still. I moved slowly, noting as the shimmer grew stronger. I frowned.

It had been like this for a week. The same weak shimmer that strengthened when I began to move.

I canceled the spell and approached the mirror, staring at my own face. I took in my expression of annoyance and let out an explosive breath, fogging up the mirror and hiding my reflection.

"Why can't I go completely invisible?" I turned away from the mirror, the annoyance building again. I'd mastered the wand movement, the incantation and the intent.

What was I missing?

"There shouldn't be any reason I'm messing this up!"

I raged for a few more moments before getting myself under control.

_Focus, Clarke._

I narrowed my eyes in thought. _I need to write this down._

I sat down at the table in the corner, so generously provided by this amazing room— it never ceased to amaze— before reaching into my backpack and pulling my pencil case and notebook out.

A few seconds later, and I was scrawling notes.

I paused. "This needs to be step by step."

_Beginning step is the intent. Next step is the wand motion and incantation to help settle the intent as well as channel the magic in the correct way._

I stopped. This was all just one step, if I really thought about it.

_Intent._ It kept coming back to intent.

So, just what _was_ intent? I lifted the pen from the paper and considered the question.

"Intent. Intent. Intent." I kept repeating. I'd tried adjusting the power flow, but my intent was another story. True, I'd shifted the meaning and improved immensely— the book never mentioned anything beyond achieving a chameleon-like camouflage.

I leaned back in my seat and pondered the implications.

If I had to describe what I looked like under the camouflage, the closest thing would have been that I was covered in a layer of water.

Yes, that was it: I'd used the feeling of being covered by something slimy and adapted it into my actual intent to hide. Instead of a solid camouflage, I'd instead used a liquid one.

Solid to liquid… I raised my hand to my mouth and bit into my fingernail— a nervous habit of mine that I couldn't quite shake, even in this world.

That, in itself, raised a few questions: were habits something enforced by the body, or the soul?

_Stick to one issue at a time, Clarke._ I thought and made a note at the start of the notebook before going back to my earlier train of thought.

"Solid is the chameleon appearance." I wrote down. "The books stop there, but seeing as how I was able to reach a higher stage, the limits of this spell haven't been charted."

The limits either hadn't been charted, or they had, but were kept secret.

The next stage was water— "A strange, watery shimmer… Well, a little more viscous than water, but still obviously a liquid."

Logically speaking, the next step was to reach a gaseous state, wasn't it? It would only make sense. However, it made me pause.

What was the limit? Assuming I reached a gaseous state, would that be considered perfect invisibility? Or, was there an even higher state of effectiveness?

I nodded down at the paper. "I have to reach the gaseous state before considering going any further."

I pushed myself off the table and retrieved my wand, before standing in front of the mirror once more. I focused my will and intent and cast the Disillusionment Charm, watching myself disappear under the shimmering effect of water.

Looking at it now, I didn't even understand how I'd never seen the logic behind it all. Dividing it into natural states of matter made so much sense.

With a wave, I undid the Charm and stared at myself. "Focused intent. Gaseous camouflage. I want to hide. I want to be unseen."

I closed my eyes, trying to change my mindset. I didn't want the feeling of liquid around me, but I wanted the feeling of gas. No, that wasn't right.

I breathed slowly, paying attention to the air as it left my lungs. "Think… What is the most insignificant thing?"

Solids were heavy and quite inflexible.

Liquids were still heavy, though their density was much lower, which allowed for much better manipulation and flexibility. Still, they could not be compressed.

Gas was light, compressible, and easy to manage.

I realized, however, that there was something else, even… I didn't think the term "lighter" applied, but if I was right…

_The __**Void**__ in which I slept after I'd died, and before I'd been reborn…_

A scary thought, indeed.

I felt my pulse quicken.

I opened my eyes and stared at my reflection again. I was already going over unknown territory with liquids and _possibly_ gas. Should I just skip that step and go even further?

I looked into my own eyes.

"No." I decided. Though this research was what drove me, I wasn't going to try this. At least, not yet: I had to do this right.

"I'm not ready for… _that._" I took a deep breath and closed my eyes again, tapping the wand atop my head and focusing my will to form a gaseous camouflage. "_Praetexo!"_

I felt a cold vapor caress my skin, turning it slightly moist as it covered my entire body. Once the sensation ended, I opened my eyes.

I couldn't see any— no, I saw it. I was visible, but only just barely. "So, this is the gaseous form."

I moved myself around, watching the air around my form distort heavily, before the spell dissipated into nothing, revealing me once again.

I blinked; that had been much harder to maintain than the previous ones. _Further proof that I'm not ready to try anything further._

Nodding again, I went back to my notebook and began to write.

_The intent is__** key**__. This spell actually functions on different levels, as it were. I say 'levels', but that's actually a concept defined by myself to make it easier for me to understand._

_Obviously the actual number of levels between each 'level' is infinite, but for simplicity's sake, I'm keeping it to three levels— possibly four._

_The first level: solid camouflage. The basic Disillusionment Charm taught in the book. My body takes on the texture of whatever's behind me. Easy to see in the light, but works decently in the darkness._

_The second level: water camouflage. I'd discovered this with a little tinkering of intent. My body is covered by a sort of liquid which takes on the texture of what's behind me. It goes a step further and hides my specific contours. With the first level, I can still tell what kind of clothes I'm wearing, even if they look like whatever's behind them. It's easy to spot. With the liquid form, it's much less noticeable._

_The third level: gaseous camouflage. Still in the early stage, I couldn't hold it for longer than five seconds. I become almost completely invisible; No contours, no shimmer of water. However, the air around me distorts, much like with heat._

_Possible fourth level: Void. Will master the third level before even considering this possible route._

With that, I put down my pen and leaned back against the chair, letting out a loud sigh.

"At this rate, I'll be running out of ink long before the end of the first year." I opened my pencil case and counted fifteen ink cartridges. If I'd only been doing my homework, I probably would've had no trouble, whatsoever.

I looked around the Room of Requirement. The Room of Hidden things probably had a lot of ink to write with— school kids lost their supplies all the time, after all.

Certainly, a useful place. Still, assuming I found a decent supply of ink, in there, I had to figure out how to get it in the cartridges. Otherwise, it would have been pointless.

The Levitation Charm only worked with solid objects. It'd fail with water. I remembered that Dumbledore was able to work a spell by using the water from the Ministry of Magic's fountain, but would that work with ink?

Something to research, at the very least. I penned a note on another page, before gathering my things.

_Wait._ I stopped and reopened the notebook, writing something else down: The Switching Spell. A fourth year spell taught in Transfiguration Class.

Yes, that would have to be my first avenue of research. My stomach twitched uncomfortably, interrupting my train of thought.

"I should probably get something to eat, huh?"

With that, I took my things and vacated the Room of Requirement. I watched the door fade into the stone wall around it, still marveling at the magic I was seeing.

This was the proof I was looking for. The door was completely gone. I placed my hand against the stone wall. Absolutely gone. It was possible to apply something like this to my Disillusionment Charm.

With a nod, I adjusted the shoulder strap on my backpack and made my way to the Great Hall, my ebony wand held in a reverse grip, pressed against my wrist to hide it from view.

Using the Disillusionment Charm at this time of day to hide was impossible— not that I needed it anymore.

The Slytherins were otherwise occupied with in-House matters.

_Matters I created. _I thought in amusement.

I remembered seeing Malfoy's furious demeanor, as well as that of Nott the day after my plan.

I'd been right on the money with that stunt, but once hadn't been enough to stop them. A few of the upper years were getting paid off by Draco to harass me.

Most notably among them were Bletchley, a few of his friends, and Marcus Flint.

In response, I'd undertaken several more trips and had sown discord among Bletchley's circle, as well as Marcus Flint's.

I had expected those trips to be harder, as I was dealing with more experienced wizards, but I'd overestimated the older students.

My own adult bias was at play; I had assumed they'd be more aware of themselves and their surroundings.

Sadly, they were as susceptible as the younger students. It shouldn't have been much of a surprise: the oldest student in the castle was over two decades younger than my mental age, after all.

I shook my head. At the end of the day, I'd basically thrown a wrench in the cogs that made the Slytherin unit what it was.

For the time being, they wouldn't bother me for quite a while— at least, until they dealt with issues closer to home.

In an ideal scenario, the more level headed members would seize the moment and take however much control they could get their hands on.

Realistically, however, they'd probably do nothing. Kids, while quick on the uptake and energetic, had a tendency to follow the pack.

It took strong egos to assume leadership roles, I mused as I went down the stairs from the seventh floor.

Followers who aspired to be leaders would always be a step behind, in that sense.

It wasn't that they were stupid— far from it. Leadership, however, was not solely an intelligence based role.

Reaching the top spot required a brazen demeanor, as well as a certain charisma to balance it out.

It got me thinking, by the time I reached the third floor. How the_ fuck_ had Tom Riddle convinced the Slytherins of his time to join his cause?

Shouldn't they have rejected him out of hand for being a Mudblood?

I paused in my steps. This was a question I'd pondered before I'd been reincarnated. A strange glitch in Rowling's plot logic. An oddity that didn't really bear much thinking: it was a mistake, an inconsistency, but unimportant because it was fiction.

Except, this was no longer fiction to me. This was _real_. Even the most innocuous of questions could lead to unknown paths.

I resumed my walk, joining up with my fellow Ravenclaws a few minutes later.

"All right, Adam?" Goldstein greeted and sidled up to me with a friendly smile. "I couldn't find you earlier."

How to answer…

"I like to exercise in the morning." I decided to go with the truth. Of course, I left out that I did this exercise in the Room of Requirement. "Sorry, Anthony."

Part of me genuinely meant that. For all his clumsiness and clinging, I had to admit that the kid had grown on me.

Unlike Boot, who'd quickly faded out of my notice, I could tell that Goldstein was an earnest young lad— the kind who tried their best to make friends, only to find that they're being ignored.

_He just reminds me of myself, when I was his age._ I thought. _That's all._

"S'all right." Anthony waved the apology off, before turning to be in excitement. "It's Halloween, today! Can you believe we've almost been here for two months? It feels like yesterday that we started."

I chuckled. "Time flies when you're having fun."

_Or when you're developing and tweaking spells to help you learn to fight better, as well as for the sake of learning._

Speaking of battling… I had an idea today, involving the Shield Charm. A powerful spell, capable of shrugging off most curses like it was nothing.

What if I could... Bah, a ridiculous thought. I shook it off in time to answer Goldstein's question. "Yes, I finished the Charms homework."

"Oh! Um..." Here, he looked a little lost. "Can I, erm... Take a look?"

"You want to copy off me?" I snorted in amusement. It was something I did with my group of friends when I was growing up, in my previous life. We had each other's backs on homework.

"No!" He said a little louder, drawing the gaze of several of the older students. "I mean, no. I just want to compare to see if I got anything wrong."

"Sure."

"I mean it's okay if you don't— what?"

"I said yes." I chuckled as we entered the Great Hall. "You can."

Seating myself at the Ravenclaw table, I helped myself to some bread, potatoes and sausage. "Hmm... Orange juice?"

A cup of orange juice appeared beside my plate.

I smiled. "Thank you."

"Who are you talking to?" Goldstein sounded confused, before pointing at the glass of orange juice. "And, how'd that get there? I thought the school only serves pumpkin juice."

"Don't call that awful stuff juice. It's gross." I made a face. "Pineapple or orange juice, or I don't want it."

"I like apple juice." Goldstein said, just as a cup of apple juice appeared before him. "It's— oh, brilliant! How?"

"House Elves prepare our meals. They're listening." I replied, taking a few bites of the sausage.

"What's a House Elf?" Came the expected question.

"I would've thought your mom or dad would've told you about them." I shrugged and continued. "House Elves are magical creatures, pretty small— nothing like the elves we've seen in books or movies. They serve wizards."

Goldstein stared at his cup of apple juice before taking a sip. "This is amazing. I've been forcing myself to drink pumpkin juice all this time."

I winced. "I don't envy you, at all."

"You could've told me about this, earlier!" He pouted.

"You never asked." I replied, getting a little defensive. "I thought you knew!"

He huffed for a moment, before seemingly letting it go. "Fine. Sorry."

I snorted and dug into my bag, pulling out a roll of parchment. "Here's the homework."

He glanced at me as he was taking a large gulp of the juice, nodding into the cup and getting his chin wet in the process. I watched him get annoyed and place the cup down before wiping his face clean.

What an amusing kid.

I continued my lunch, answering whatever questions he had as he was reading through the roll of parchment.

"Isn't it too simple?"

"That's the point." I replied, looking at the boy askance. "We're eleven. The professors are not expecting us to do anything mental."

"Yeah..." Goldstein handed my homework back to me. "You're probably right."

"'Course. I'm right about everything." I gave the boy a flippant smirk.

He smiled back, a small fire lighting in his eyes. "Don't get ahead of yourself."

The rest of the lunch period was spent in a companionable silence. Before I knew it, we were already seated in the Charms classroom, handing in our assignments to Professor Flitwick.

"Very good, children!" The short man smiled at all of us. "I trust you've had a good day so far?"

There was a weak chorus of "yes"-es going around.

"Splendid!" He exclaimed, almost falling off his podium again. "Now, today we will be going over the Levitation Charm..."

I smiled at the man's enthusiasm, even as I glanced towards Granger. Today was the day.

"As you may have been able to notice." Professor Flitwick got my attention again. "I've put feathers in front of each student. Your task, for the next few classes, is to successfully cast the Levitation Charm."

As he continued to explain the use of the Levitation Charm, I thought about the spell's applications.

Simply put, it was some form of Telekinesis, though heavily limited. Objects were levitated very slowly. And, as the Professor was explaining just then, the spell worked _only _on solid objects. You could not levitate liquid or gas. Also, you could not levitate people, either.

This brought me to the next, logical question: how was Voldemort capable of flight?

I added another item to the list.

I snorted. The list of things to study just kept growing and growing. I smiled and put the notebook away. I watched the Professor continue to explain the intricacies of the spell's history, before gesturing for us to begin, while reminding us to swish and flick.

"_Wingardium Leviosa._" I made the necessary wand motion, spoke the words and focused my intent. The feather floated around with ease.

"Well done, Mr. Clarke!" Flitwick squeaked in excitement. "I take it you've practiced this spell already?"

"Of course, sir." I gave a smile and a nod.

"As I thought." Flitwick smiled back. "Five points to Ravenclaw, for an exemplary work ethic. You would all do well to learn from Mr. Clarke. Now, keep going!"

I stifled a wince as I brought the feather down and canceled the spell. Did he _want_ the others to target me?

I sighed and turned to Goldstein. "You good?"

"I think so." He frowned in concentration and made the wand motion. "_Wingardium Leviosa."_

The feather twitched, but otherwise remained immobile.

"Ugh." Anthony groaned in dismay. "It's not working."

"It twitched." I pointed out. "You must be doing something right. Try again."

I kept my eyes firmly on his casting, as well as the feather.

"_Wingardium Leviosa._" It twitched again, a little stronger this time.

"Hm…" I took a deep breath. "Your wand motion and pronunciation seem fine. Tell me what you're thinking when you cast the spell."

"What I'm thinking?" Anthony repeated. "Um… That I want it to fly around?"

"Oh, I see." I nodded to him. "Try imagining that you're lifting it with your hand."

Anthony frowned for a moment, before nodding. "All right. Here goes. _Wingardium Leviosa._"

The feather rose a few inches before falling back down.

"Yes!" Goldstein cheered. "I did it. Thanks, Adam."

"No problem, Anthony." I replied, waving it off.

"Tony." He answered.

"Huh?" I turned to him.

"You can call me Tony." Anthony— Tony— repeated with an insistent nod.

I shrugged. "Tony, it is."

There was a commotion from the Gryffindor's side. Ah, Granger looked annoyed at something Weasley said. That had been happening more often, as of late.

"You do it then, if you're so clever!" Weasley said condescendingly. "Go on!"

Granger levitated her feather with no effort. I should know, I'm the one she'd practiced it with a week before.

She smiled at me. I nodded back, a placid expression on my face as Flitwick began to heap praise upon the girl.

I saw the envy and anger quickly form on Weasley's face and knew what that would lead to.

_What do I do about it?_ I asked myself. _This day has been a long time coming. The girl's bathroom. The troll. Potter and Weasley saving Granger. Do I interfere? Do I do anything?_

_Do I care?_ Another part sneered.

The thoughts continued to roil inside my head, even as I prepared to exit the class with the others.

"Mr. Clarke? Can you stay behind for a moment?" Professor Flitwick called me over.

"...Of course, Professor." I gave a significant glance to the door, wondering just what kind of inconvenient timing this was. I looked at Tony. "Meet you at the Library?"

"Count on it." Tony nodded and left the class with the others.

I turned to the short man. "You wanted to speak to me, sir?"

"Oh, yes! Have a seat, Mr. Clarke." Flitwick waved his wand and Summoned a chair over. I sat down without a word.

"Do you know which spell I just used?" The Professor asked, a smile on his face as he took a seat atop his podium.

"The Summoning Charm, sir." Was my answer.

"Correct! You _do_ read ahead, don't you?" Flitwick asked.

"It's _magic_, sir." I replied with, confusion settling on my face. "I'd be a fool not to. Plus, once I saw Professor Snape use it on my acceptance letter, I knew I had to learn it."

"Learn it, my boy?" Professor Flitwick raised his eyebrows. "You're saying you're able to perform the Summoning Charm? It's a Fourth Year spell."

I nodded and pulled out my wand. "Anything in particular I can cast the spell on?"

Professor Flitwick grew excited and pointed off to the side. I turned to see a shelf stacked with small pillows. "I keep these specifically for Summoning Charm practice as well as the Banishing Charm. Perhaps a few others."

"All right." I nodded and pointed my wand towards the topmost pillow, an ugly lime-green monstrosity. I focused my intent and spoke the word: "_Accio."_

The pillow smoothly flew into my hand. I displayed it to the Professor.

"Incredible!" Flitwick gushed. "A Fourth Year spell in your first year of schooling? My, my... I would have asked if you had received tutoring prior to your time in Hogwarts, but…"

_Orphan._

I returned the pillow back to its shelf, not giving him a reply.

"That was indelicate of me." Flitwick replied. I turned, seeing the man look bummed out at his blunder. "I apologize."

"It's the truth." I shrugged it off. "But if it eases your mind... apology accepted, sir."

Professor Flitwick nodded in acknowledgment, though he sent me a thoughtful frown. "I'll admit, I didn't call you here to ask about your prowess with magic so far above your year."

"...Sir?" I asked, feeling a little unsure.

"Ah, don't fret." He raised his hands to placate me. "You are not in trouble. As you know, I am the Head of Ravenclaw House, and it's my duty to see that my First Years are acclimating very well."

_Tell that to Luna. _I immediately thought, but said nothing on the matter.

I nodded, urging him without words to proceed.

He smiled. "You've obviously acclimated well to the scholastic side of things; the other Professors find you to be a delight."

I held back a snort. He definitely had to be buttering me up. I basically slept in History of Magic, and paid absolutely no attention in Defense Against the Dark Arts.

And, however much canon information I had on the series, I doubted I was anything more than decent at Transfiguration.

"Thank you, sir." I had an idea where he was going with this.

"You're welcome." Professor Flitwick, before seemingly changing the topic. "You are getting along well with your peers?"

_And, there it is._ I thought. I'd been careful not to show it. I'd been careful not to head towards the Room of Requirement too often, lest I get this exact sort of attention.

And yet, I still drew unnecessary attention.

_Annoying._

"Oh, yes, sir. We all get along famously. Tony and I— I mean Anthony and I— spend a lot of time together now."

He smiled at my correction.

"That's good to hear." The Professor opened his mouth to say something else when Padma Patil burst through the door.

"Professor!" Patil cried, looking distressed. "You need to come, quickly!"

Outside of the office, we could hear the sound of a scuffle. _A fight?_

"Sorry I have to end this conversation on a bad note, lad." Flitwick apologized quickly before hopping off the podium.

"It's fine." I replied, but he was already halfway out.

I followed the man out of the classroom and into the hallways, where a crowd of children stood, hiding whatever was ahead from view.

Seeing the Professor, the group immediately parted, revealing Weasley and Tony rolling together on the stone floor. A fight?

_Holy—_

"What is the meaning of this!" Professor Flitwick yelled, the sound completely alien to me.

_This is the first time in two months that I've heard him raise his voice, let alone yell like that._

The two boys froze while on the ground, turning wide eyes towards the Professor. The surprise on their faces quickly turned into dismay and mortification.

Potter, who was standing with the crowd, looked relieved that the entire debacle was over, though he shot Weasley a nervous, if guilty glance.

Tony and Weasley immediately parted, each speaking over the other in an attempt to get their own story across. Professor Flitwick waved his wand, and both were silent.

_Silencing Charm._

"One at a time." He dispelled the charm and turned to Ron. "Mr. Weasley."

"He hit me, out of nowhere, Professor!" Weasley claimed instantly.

"You insulted Adam!" Tony turned furiously. "Called him an arrogant loser! And insulted Granger, too!"

_So that's what happened, huh. First time another kid in school stood up for me._

My heart lightened at that. Tony— he really was an earnest boy, huh?

Professor Flitwick threw me a quick glance before taking a step forward, addressing both boys.

"Mr. Goldstein. A week's worth of detentions. We _do not _assault students here, for whatever reason." Flitwick said curtly.

"But…" Tony shook his head. "Yes, Professor."

"Good." Flitwick turned to Ron, who was too busy trying to hide a smug grin. "As for you, Mr. Weasley. A week's detention, as well."

"But, I didn't start the fight!" Weasley immediately protested.

"You did not." Professor Flitwick replied. "However, your behavior leaves much to be desired, young man. A week's worth of detention. Now, let's get you boys to the Hospital Wing, and make sure you haven't hurt yourselves."

He turned to the crowd surrounding us. "You're going to miss your classes, children. Go on!"

"Sir, I…" Tony hesitated.

"One week's worth of detention, Mr. Goldstein." Professor Flitwick repeated.

"No, no! It's not that." Tony quickly corrected himself as the crowd dispersed, leaving Flitwick, Tony, Weasley, Potter and myself in the hallway. "It's that I have to return a book to the Library, and I don't want to get Madam Pince angry with me, sir."

"Ah, yes." Flitwick's tone gained a certain level of amusement. "Not someone to offend, Madam Pince is."

"I'll take it back." I offered immediately.

"A splendid idea!" Professor Flitwick accepted, and motioned for Tony to hand me the book. It took a few seconds for him to dig it out of his pack.

"I'll return it, don't worry." I took the book from his hands. "Thanks for looking out for me, Tony."

We shared a smile, despite the tense situation.

"Come along, boys." Flitwick said before walking away— Weasley and Goldstein quickly following him.

I turned to Potter, who gave me an uncomfortable look.

"I should go…" He said, sounding awkward.

"Arrogant loser, huh?" I said before he could leave. "Do I really give off that impression?"

Harry flinched. "I— no, you don't! Ron is just..."

Was he feeling bad about betraying his only friend?

_Maybe I shouldn't give him shit for what Weasley did._

At this stage in life, Potter had mostly known neglect from his guardians, and bullying from his cousin's circle of friends.

"What about Granger?" I decided to continue. "I don't know what he said about her, but it probably wasn't nice, either."

Here, he looked even more uncomfortable.

"You know what the worst thing in the world is, Potter?" I stowed Tony's book in my backpack before shouldering it once again.

He didn't answer immediately. "What?"

"A bully." I told him. "Is that what you want to become?"

His eyes flashed with suppressed anger and his body language turned hostile. "Never."

Those eyes…

I almost took a step back. There was a fire in those eyes.

_This kid is__** intense**__. Not surprising, considering __**who**__ he is…_

"I believe you." I said, trying to defuse the situation. "You don't seem like the sort of person who hurts others for fun."

That seemed to appease him, judging by his now relaxed stance.

"I'll apologize to her." He declared, finally understanding what I was getting at.

"That'd be for the best, yeah." I turned and walked away. "See you around."

"...Right." I heard the other boy say before I turned a corner and made my way to the moving staircases. My destination: Hogwarts Library.

I waited as the staircase slowly spun towards me, my mind working at a mile a minute. Was I not a background character, as I initially thought?

I began to feel silly. Of _course_, I couldn't be a background character. Someone in the background would never be able to have this much influence in the story. On some level, I'd intuitively known this.

Hell, I could have probably taken a knife to any main character just to prove that point. The books would have most assuredly covered an event as important as _that_.

I shook the thought away. My own prowess with magic had already changed Weasley's behavior— if only minutely. He had two focuses for his feelings of inadequacy, now: Hermione, and myself.

I hadn't even planned on interfering with events, content with ensuring my own safety, as well as exploring all of the secrets magic had to offer. I was hoping to ride out these few years until I was able to leave Hogwarts Castle and travel the world in search of its true mysteries.

However, even when I did nothing, things radically changed. Tony was never supposed to get in a fight with Weasley. The two were never supposed to get sent to the Hospital Wing.

I felt my breath quicken as I went down the stairs, quickly catching the second set, as well. I ran through the scenario. Potter alone against a troll would possibly lead to both himself, and Granger dying.

How long until Pomphrey would have sent the boys back out? Quickly enough for the Halloween evening feast?

_What the hell am I doing?_ I stopped myself from freaking out. _Breathe, Clarke. Why am I interfering?_

_Face it, you enjoy the fuzzball's company._ Another part of me said. _Plus, can you really forgive yourself if a troll kills her, when you know you could've saved her?_

I didn't answer that question. I'd said, before, that I wouldn't have cared if someone found themselves on the business end of another's wand in Knockturn Alley, and _that_ was still true, at least.

It wasn't my job to police the nation.

But Granger— Hermione, I corrected myself quietly— had been hanging around me for a while now. Was I comfortable with just letting her die?

Forget the fact that she was an integral character to the plot.

At the end of the day, it was just a little girl, and I'd be damned if I let her die.

A few minutes later, I was standing before Madam Pince as she looked over Goldstein's borrowed book.

"You didn't borrow this tome, Mr. Clarke." She looked at me, eyes heavy with suspicion.

"I did not." I confirmed without missing a beat. "Tony— Anthony Goldstein— had to go to the Hospital Wing. I'm returning the book for him."

She absorbed the words. "Thoughtful boy. Very well."

Then, she walked away, book in hand.

_Did she just compliment someone?_

_That_ had been a first.

This day, so far, was proving to be very strange. Rowling's obsession with weird events on Halloween might have been the root cause of this.

Spying a familiar, fuzzy head of hair in the Library's corner, I stopped. What was Granger doing, _here_? Wasn't she supposed to be in one of the bathrooms?

Hermione hadn't noticed me, just yet. She was hunched over, one of the notebooks I'd lended her open in front of her. And, yet, she wasn't writing in it.

She was barely even moving, her shoulders hunched together and— _She's crying, isn't she? Fuck._

Hermione hadn't gone to the bathroom, but she'd come to the Library, instead. There was only one reason for that: _**me**_.

I'd upended canon events without even trying.

It reminded me of a book I'd read in my previous life: _'The things that really change the world, according to Chaos theory, are the tiny things. A butterfly flaps its wings in the Amazonian jungle, and subsequently a storm ravages half of Europe.'*_

No matter what I did, or didn't do, I was going to affect things, whether I liked it or not.

I stared at the quietly sobbing girl for another instant, my mind made up.

I was going to do whatever I wanted, regardless of whatever the outcome was going to be. And, what I currently wanted to do was comfort the girl who'd wormed her way into my good graces, despite being a pushy, annoying little know-it-all brat.

_The canon can go fuck itself. This is my life, now._

I walked towards the girl, placed my hand at her shoulder and gave her a hug. She quickly hugged me back, her sobbing intensifying— yet still quiet. Even now, she was following the rules of the Library.

What a strange child.

**oooo**

*: Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett, Good Omens: The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch, (1990)

**ooooooo**

**Link to my book: mybook,to/TheDregOfBellmead (Replace comma with period)**

**OR look up "The Dreg of Bellmead" on Amazon/Kindle.**

**Link to my discord: discord,gg/Pq5J8dX (Replace comma with period)**

**Come and hang out, we like to meme and talk about shows/movies/fanfics/games! Always nice to make new friends.**


End file.
